Not Listening When You Say Goodbye
by Caught In A Simple Game
Summary: South Mosely has said goodbye to almost everyone near and dear to her. She thought she had gotten used to it, but that was before the lights started flickering wherever she went; that was before a blast from the past came cruising into town in a 1967 Chevy Impala.
1. Flickering Lights

"You gotta get the lights in here fixed," Eddie told her, dropping a wrench on the counter.

South glared at him and quickly tossed the wrench in his toolbox and wiped down the counter. "They just started that recently. Thatcher says it's the wiring."

Eddie sighed. "Right. Well, at any rate, these taps shouldn't give you any trouble tonight."

"Thanks, Eddie. Bill us, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," the handyman said with a smile. "See you around, South."

She waved goodbye, then preceded to clean the counter again. She went to work loading the taps, knowing she would have some happy customers to have them up and running again. The night before, there had nearly been a riot in the bar when she announced they weren't working and Eddie wouldn't be able to make it out until the next day. The longnecks had flown off the shelf faster than she could re-stock – long and short, it was not pretty.

John Thatcher, the bar's owner, came in while South was busying herself with re-stocking the longnecks. Rob, the cook, was busy making them lunch in the kitchen. Thatcher sat down at the window table and pulled out his paperwork.

That's about how it went every day. South would come in, make sure everything in the bar was ready for the day, do the deposit from the night before – the usual manager stuff. Rob would come in early and make lunch, then the three of them would sit and eat and have an informal meeting about the goings-on at Thatcher's Bar & Grill.

"What's the word today, South?" Thatcher asked.

South took a sip of her soda. "Lights are still flickering, but Eddie said he'll check the wiring next time he's in. Taps are up and running. We should be set for tonight."

"Working on some new stuff in the kitchen," Rob added in. "Might sling it to a couple of the regulars tonight, see what they think."

Thatcher chewed away at his hamburger in the way old men do, making sure it was good and soft before he swallowed it down. "You kids are good kids. I don't worry about the place while you're here."

South smiled at Rob then turned back to her lunch. Thatcher told them that at least once a week, but it always made her feel good. She didn't have much left, and as far as family went, Thatcher and Rob were pretty much it.

After lunch, she excused herself back to her small studio apartment for a nap before the bar opened. Rob walked her down the street to her place, promising to be there when she came back to open in a few hours.

She unlocked the door and pushed her flip flops off her feet as she locked it behind her. She went to the kitchen for a glass of water and gulped it down before heading to her bedroom at the back of the apartment.

Her bathroom was tucked into one corner of the bedroom, with no windows. Always with an irrational fear of peeping toms, South had particularly enjoyed that trait of the studio apartment. She flipped on the lights so she could see her face in the mirror; the lights flickered before coming on all the way.

"Goodness, it's like it's following me around," she mumbled to herself as she splashed water on her face.

.&.

Sam Winchester studied the map while his brother navigated them along the highway. This last hunt had been intense; the both of them were banged up and bruised from it. Although they had been successful, he decided maybe they needed a break.

"I'm not finding anything worth looking at," Sam sighed. "Let's keep on this heading. There's a town that'll come up soon, we can get a room for the night and check things out in the morning."

"Really? There's nothing?" Dean frowned. "There's got to be something."

"Look, I know you run on energy from this stuff, but some of us normal, not-so-twisted humans have to sleep."

Dean pushed his lips into a firm line before nodding. "Yeah, all right. How much longer till the exit?"

"We're about forty-five minutes out."

"Good. I could use the sleep."

Sam snorted. His brother would check into the hotel with him, then find the nearest bar. Sleep wouldn't find Dean Winchester until the alcohol induced it.

And Sam was exactly right, although he chose to join his brother this time. Thatcher's Bar & Grill was decently-lit and the smell coming from the kitchen was enough to entice them to order from the menu along with their drinks. They were waiting for their food to come when the lights flickered.

The brothers exchanged a glance and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and no one else seemed to think twice about the flickering lights.

"Were you yanking my chain when you said there wasn't much?" Dean asked. "Is there a case here you didn't think I'd want to take?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I swear."

"That was weird though, right? The lights flickering?"

"Don't worry about it," a woman said, carrying a heavy tray on her shoulder. "Marie is busy so I'm delivering your order before I get back behind the bar."

Dean studied the woman carefully. She had to be mid-to-late-twenties, petite with brown hair. Her voice was different but familiar; it was the eyes that really got him – a murky purple, as though they had been a brilliant violet at some point and were then tainted with gray.

"South?"

She stopped what she was doing after setting Sam's food in front of him. After looking up from her task, her jaw went slack and her eyes grew wide with recognition.

"Sam? Dean?" South stuttered out. "What are you doing here?"

"Having a hamburger and a beer," Sam answered. "God, South, how long has it been?"

"Yes, South, how long _has_ it been?" Dean echoed in a smug tone. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his seat.

Her countenance went from shocked to angry. Clearly everything had come back to her from the last time they saw each other. She set Dean's plate in front of him and leaned the tray against the table before stepping forward and clocking Dean in the jaw so hard that he fell from his chair to all fours on the floor.

"Enjoy your hamburger, you ass," she hissed. "Good to see you, Sam."

She picked up the tray and headed back behind the bar. The cook came out and seemed to ask her what was wrong. Dean and Sam both watched as she just shook her head and continued on to fill her orders.

.&.

Marie helped South dry glasses as the last of the customers left the bar. Last call had been a while ago, but South liked to make sure everyone had a safe ride home before she closed the place down. Rob was taking out the trash, and once he was done, they would all leave for the night.

"So, you gonna tell me about that guy?"

"What guy," South replied so flatly, it didn't even sound like a question.

"C'mon, South. The one you punched."

"Nothing to tell."

"Obviously, because it's so like you to just go around decking strangers." Marie rolled her eyes. "He was cute. So was his brother."

"Yeah, well, Sam's not so bad. Dean though, he's an idiot. Plain and simple."

"All right. Tell me when you're ready. Can't force it out of you."

South chuckled. "Now _that_ sounds like me. Grab your purse, let's get out of here."

The girls waited for Rob to lock the door, then they all headed their separate ways.

"South!"

She stopped walking and let out a deep breath. She knew that voice. "What?"

Dean was there, leaning against the building. He stepped towards her; she felt a pang of guilt at his split, swollen lip.

"You're really still mad at me? After ten years?" Dean pressed.

South let out a deep breath. "You broke my heart, you humiliated me, and then you just disappeared. I'm sorry that's not really something that a girl gets over."

"I wrote you a letter and apologized. If I could have gotten to you –"

South held up a hand to stop him. "We really don't need to re-hash it. What's done is done and whether I'm over it or not – I should be, I guess. Did you put ice on that lip?"

"I put a cold pint glass on it," he replied, then motioned to the Impala. "Sammy and I were hoping you could point us in the direction of a motel."

"You guys don't need to stay in a motel. Come on, we'll go to my place."

She shook her head when Sam gave Dean the 'I told you so' look. She lead them to her apartment building and unlocked the door to head up the stairs to the second floor.

"It's not much," she warned. "Just a studio. Haven't needed much more room than that for God knows how long."

She pushed open the door and switched on the light, letting them go in front of her. South brought up the rear, locking the door behind her. She set her bag down and kicked off her shoes before going to the closet.

The lights flickered as she yelled from the bedroom. "Sam, you've got to be taller than your father was, I'll let you have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch, and Dean can sleep on this air mattress."

She returned with the air mattress and the small device that aired it up. Before she could return to the closet for extra bedding, she noted the look on the brothers' faces.

"What?" she frowned.

"The lights," Dean spoke up. "They were flickering at the bar, too."

South rolled her eyes. "Please. My dad was a hunter – if the flickering lights meant something, I'm sure I'd have picked up on it by now. Thatcher said a lot of the wiring in town is old and probably needs re-done. This building was built about the same time as the bar, so that's my guess."

Dean and Sam didn't look convinced. South ignored their concern and went about blowing up the air mattress. Dean offered to take over, so South went with Sam to get him set up in the bedroom.

"How long ago was it?" Sam asked. "The accident, I mean. Your parents."

South cleared her throat as she changed from jeans to sweats before gathering the throw blanket and an extra pillow from the bed. "Not too long after you all left. Almost eleven years."

"I'm sorry we weren't there. I don't have to explain to you why," Sam said quietly.

"No, you don't. I get it." She swallowed hard. "You know it wasn't an accident, right?"

"South, you don't know that …" Sam replied in an effort to ease her mind.

"Except that all the signs were there. No skid marks, a nearly dead tree that literally came out of nowhere. No bodies left afterwards."

"Did you see it coming?"

This was all part of South's life she hadn't talked about in at least half the time her parents had been gone. She had learned better. "Sleep good, Sam. Help yourself to whatever you need."

.&.

Dean had the mattress aired up, pillows situated, and was flipping through the channels when South returned to the living room. She took one look at him, dropped her pillow and blanket on the couch, and headed for the kitchen. She returned a minute or so later with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel.

He didn't complain when she settled next to him, holding the ice against his swollen, cut lip. Dean for once kept his mouth shut; not that he could with the ice on his mouth. He thought maybe this time it was better to let her do the talking.

"I'm sorry I punched you," South finally said after a few minutes.

Dean took the ice from her hand and held it in his lap. "I probably deserved it."

"I didn't say you didn't deserve it. Said I was sorry I did it."

Dean looked at her all-too-familiar face. "You haven't changed in eleven years, you know that?"

South chuckled; he could tell her feelings toward him were warming again. "You look older. But I'm guessing you're not much more mature than you were then."

"You're probably right about that," he agreed with a smile. "And I'm guessing you're more mature than Sammy and I put together – and he's pretty damn mature."

South shrugged. "We get by however we can, I guess."

He ventured to reach out and play with the end of her hair. "I don't know how I got by without you."

"Come on, Dean. That was a long time ago, and you were the one who disappeared." She pulled away from him and moved to the couch. "Let's not forget that."

"You want to fight about this again?" Dean asked, frustration filling his tone.

"We've never fought about it before," South snapped back. "You weren't around for that. You left, my parents died. You didn't even come to the funeral, Dean! I was alone. I had no family but them left, and when I thought the Winchesters were going to come riding in on their white horses and save me, you were all _gone_. My God, at least Sam and your dad called, though – what did I get from you? Nothing. Not a damn thing."

"Don't act like I was just out there living it up all these years. You know what my life is like!" he argued back.

South shook her head. "I'm done talking about it. You and I could go round and round about I, and neither of us would be wrong or right. That's all there is: you left, I was alone. Maybe someday I'll punch you again and be over it, I don't know. For right now, you're still a dick. Put that ice back on your face and try not to leave the TV on."

She rolled over after that, facing away from him. Dean knew there was nothing he could do or say to make her feel differently – or to even talk to him at that point – so he put the ice back on his face and rested his free hand behind his head.

.&.

Several hours later, before the sun came up, they were all sleeping peacefully. The apartment was dark, except for the television set, which Dean had not turned off before he fell asleep.

Though none of them noticed, the picture on the screen flickered, just like the lights had done in the bar and in the apartment. Outside the door, a man, strange to the town, stopped, leaned his ear against the door, and smiled an evil, satisfied grin.

**A/N: I'm a newbie Supernatural fan, but had to get this story out of my head and onto the page! Hope it doesn't turn out too terrible. I'm only into season two, so I don't know how many other characters from the show will appear. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Then & Now

Dean was putting his boots on when Sam came out to the living room the next morning. Noticing his brother's presence, Dean motioned for him to be quiet.

"She's still asleep. Don't think she slept much last night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Really, Dean? With me just in the next room?"

"Yeah, right. South doesn't want anything to do with where all that is concerned, thanks. No, she tossed and turned and talked in her sleep. Nightmares, I think," Dean explained. "Was just going out to the main street to find coffee and breakfast. Coming with?"

Sam agreed and went for his own shoes. The brothers slipped quietly out of the apartment, trying not to wake South from a finally peaceful sleep.

.&.

The sun coming in through the window eventually forced her to roll over and open her eyes. South's mind immediately went to her reunion from the night before; she shot up and looked down at the air mattress.

Just because Dean wasn't sleeping there, didn't mean he was gone. That's what she told herself, just before her mind berated her for caring at all whether he had again left without saying goodbye.

But he wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen, and Sam was nowhere to be found, either. Letting out a deep sigh, South shook her head. How stupid did she have to be? No one ever changed. She knew that. Everyone had left her at some point, and a sudden return to her life didn't mean the brothers would stay.

She pep-talked herself all the way through making her bed, deflating the air mattress, and putting it away with the extra blankets and pillows. She checked her phone, confirmed her coffee date with Marie that morning, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

The lights flickered on and off, on and off. She looked around, she listened – nothing. The light stabilized, but South wasn't so sure now there wasn't something more than bad wiring to those strange lights.

"Listen to yourself," she chided out loud. "He's here for what, twelve hours, and you're already letting him change your mind? Give yourself a break."

She started the water and undressed, letting her mind go back to the day she was five, and the Winchesters first stepped into her life.

.&.

"Thanks for letting us crash, Becca. Colby'll be home soon?"

South had never seen the tall man with the deep voice before, but he seemed to know her mother very well. Only her daddy ever called her mother _Becca_.

The two boys in tow of the man piqued her curiosity. Even though she had just been sent to bed for the night, South crept out of her room and peered around the corner. Ever alert, it seemed, Rebecca Mosely noticed her only child coming out of her room.

"Come here, South."

South ran to her mother, who in turn swept the little girl up and into her arms. "This is your Uncle John. You met him once, when you were a tiny baby."

"Hey, South," John greeted with a smile.

"Hi, Uncle John." Usually South was not so open to new people, but something about this man made her feel at ease, and she knew he was okay.

"These are my boys, Dean and Sam." Seven-year-old Dean stood by his father, looking tired, and John pulled a shy three-year-old Sam out from behind his legs. "Think they can sleep in your room tonight?"

"Okay," she answered, quite confident for a five-year-old. "Come with me."

She wriggled out of her mother's arms; her nightgown nearly hit the floor, and her braid swished over her shoulder.

Dean immediately followed her, but Sam wasn't so quick to join them. South waited patiently as Dean reached out a hand to his little brother.

"Come on, Sammy. We'll build a tent," Dean coaxed.

South continued to watch as Sam took his brother's hand and the two-some became a trio. She showed them her room, and the boys were pleasantly surprised.

"You have all of the Thunder Cats!" Dean exclaimed, pulling the figurines off of her shelf. "Mind if I play with them?"

South shrugged. "Go ahead. I'll be right back."

When South found her mother, Rebecca was sitting at the kitchen table with John. The both of them looked tired. South didn't listen to what they were saying, just stepped up and whispered in her mother's ear.

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, that would be a good idea, I think. John, you've got to see the tent that Colby built for South downstairs. She only gets to sleep there on special nights – I think tonight is a special one. Go get the boys, South."

She ran for her room, grabbed Dean's hand, and immediately ran back for the stairs. Dean had grabbed Sam's hand, and the three children quickly caught up to the adults.

"Wow …" Sam gaped. "This is yours?"

"My daddy made it for me," South announced. "It keeps all the monsters away."

The tent was so large, it took up most of the spare bedroom in the basement. Twinkle lights adorned the outside of the dark sheets so that it resembled the night sky when you laid down. The lights also served to make the symbols and adornments less noticeable. There was room enough for South, Rebecca, and Colby, which meant the three children had plenty of space. There were three of the comfiest pallets with lots of pillows for them to sleep on, and the tent was complete with an electric lantern, flashlights, books – everything they needed to keep them busy.

"Daddy, I want to sleep down here!"

"Of course, Sammy," John smiled. "Let's go get your bags from the car, okay?"

"Dad," Dean pleaded quietly, tugging at his father's sleeve.

John looked uneasy, glancing at South and Rebecca. Rebecca didn't seem to notice, but South was _very _perceptive child.

"Mommy," South piped up. "Since it's tent night, we have to have tent pizza!"

"Tent pizza?" John raised his brow.

"Just regular pizza but we always eat it when we sleep in here," Rebecca explained. "Honey, it's late, I'm sure Sam and Dean –"

"They haven't eaten all day," John whispered.

Rebecca nodded, now understanding. "Tent pizza it is. John, why don't you and the boys get your bags and we will get you settled. You'll stay with us for a while."

South showed them everything in the tent. She watched as the boys looked around in wonder. They were okay, too, she decided.

"Do you know why my dad built me this tent?" South asked quietly.

"Why?" Sam asked in wide-eyed bewilderment.

"To keep away the bad things."

Dean turned to face her. "Don't scare him."

"I'm not. I'm telling you the truth. We're safe in this tent. My dad hunts the same stuff your dad does."

"We never met you before. How'd you know what our dad does?" Dean, already more mature than the average seven-year-old, was skeptical of this girl.

South shrugged. "I just know. Better go upstairs, your dad has your stuff."

As she turned back to the book she had been looking at, John called down the stairs for his sons. Sam told South she was cool, but Dean watched her carefully as he left the room.

.&.

South stepped out of the shower and tried to push the memories away. Dean's weariness of her had quickly worn off, thanks to the Lion-O action figure she gave him that night. John Winchester hunted with Colby Mosely for years, and the children grew up together over that time. Sometime during her sophomore year, Dean started to look at her differently. He was her best friend for years; even Sam didn't know as much about her as Dean knew. Their romance, however, lasted just over a year. The Winchesters took off on their never-ending hunt for Mary Winchester's killer, then South's parents died.

She didn't want to cry. She fought the tears as she pulled on clean clothes and brushed out her wet hair. She braided it over her shoulder, like she always did. Finally, as she wrapped an elastic around the end of the braid, she let the tears fall.

This time had felt different. Or, maybe, she wanted it to be different so badly that she had convinced herself it felt different. She laid back on the bed doing a rare thing – letting herself cry. She was by herself anyway, so what did it matter?

"South! You here? We've got coffee and breakfast!"

She shot up from the bed, now frantically wiping at the tears. "Yeah, uh, I'm in here!"

"Aw, you showered without me?" Dean teased, noticing her wet hair, and then her wet eyes. "Are you – South, are you crying?"

"She doesn't cry," Sam corrected, sipping at his coffee. "Wait a minute. Your eyes are red and puffy. I can see the tear stains on your cheeks. You were crying!"

"Shut up," South muttered, taking a coffee. "I'm meeting Marie here after a bit, so I'll pass on breakfast thanks."

Her mind kicked her all the way to her bathroom where she pulled out her makeup bag. She had allowed herself to be sad over the possibility of once again continuing her life without him.

"Don't get too excited," she warned her image in the mirror. "He'll leave again. Sam will, too. They're not here forever."

.&.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. It was a familiar look. Dean had done something to make her cry, and Sam was mentally pushing him to go talk to her.

Dean set down his coffee and donut and met her in the bathroom.

"What did I do?" He folded his arms across his chest and leaned in the doorway.

"Nothing. Promise."

"We left, you were sleeping. We come back, you're crying. Unless someone else has been here today, I'm assuming – oh, wait." He fought a smug, knowing smile. "You thought I left without saying anything again, didn't you? That's why you were crying."

"Shut it, Dean. Just go finish your donut."

Tears welled in her eyes again, telling him he had hit the nail on the head. He moved forward, put a finger under her chin, and moved her to face him.

"I will never leave without saying goodbye again, South. I promise."

He looked right into her eyes, something he rarely did unless he meant what he had to say. South nodded and pulled her face away from him, going back to applying her makeup.

"What are you guys going to do while I'm gone?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. There wasn't anything we could find to hunt which is why we stopped last night."

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as need. I'll be back before I go to the bar – Rob is doing the opening stuff for me since I have visitors, but we will head over there for lunch."

He moved out of the way when she was finished and trailed her out of the bedroom. She was talking and laughing with Sam by the time he got out to the main room; he missed that sound. Her laughter, her voice. And those eyes – they had mystified him from the time he was seven years old. Had he ever told her that? Maybe he should have.

Just as he thought it, the apartment door flew open. No one had touched it. They were all still in the kitchen, drinking coffee and munching on donuts. Now though, the coffee cups were on the counter, and donuts were on napkins.

"Flickering lights, door opening by itself – what's been going on around here, South?" Sam asked.

South recovered nicely. "Just the lights I've noticed. I'm sure it was the wind."

And the door shut again. The locks didn't move; it was just as if someone had come in and then left.

"This is nothing," South said quietly.

"You haven't seen anything coming?" Sam pressed.

South knew better than to think he was asking about her eyes. "No, I haven't. Really. Look, I've got to get going to meet Marie but – here. I'll drop some salt on my way out." She took the salt container and sprinkled a fair amount at the threshold of the door.

"What about the windows?" Dean asked.

"You're not doing anything, right?" She tossed the closed canister over to him. "Do me a favor, boys. Don't read too much into this. I'll be back in an hour."

.&.

As soon as she was gone, Dean and Sam ran an EMF detector over the whole apartment, as well as the hallway outside of it. There was a faint trace of something on the outside of the door, but not enough to cause alarm.

"Maybe she was right. Maybe it is nothing," Sam suggested.

"Doors don't open and close by themselves – and _definitely _not in places where lights have been flickering." Dean looked around. "Everything is salted. She'll be pissed, but she'll have to deal with it."

Sam shook his head. "Some things never change."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, suddenly defensive.

"Oh, come on, Dean. Since we were kids you've done everything you can to protect her. The only reason you left without telling her and didn't speak to her after that was because you were afraid you'd pick her over the job, and that scared the crap out of you!"

"Think what you want. I'm just doing my job. Weird stuff is going on, I'm checking it out. Just happens to be South who has the weird stuff going on."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "So we didn't find anything. What now?"

"We stay another night, see how that goes," Dean answered matter-of-factly. "Ask around the town about what's been going on with other people – all the usual."

"Great. Well, make sure South knows this was your idea, not mine. I saw her deck you the other night and I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that one."

"Whatever," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I'm takin' a shower. Maybe you should jump in line, you smell like ass."

Sam rolled his eyes and dropped to the couch. There was no point in arguing when his brother set his mind to something.


	3. Moving On

South sipped at a lemonade and munched at a bagel while Marie begged and pleaded to be introduced to the Winchester brothers. Worried that Marie would say too much, or that the other young woman would see right through her denial of lingering feelings for Dean, South adamantly refused. But, knowing her friend well, Marie was able to wear South down by simply offering to work her shift that night.

"I'm sure we'll end up there anyway, celebrating our little reunion," South sighed. "Those boys are pretty fun to drink with."

"How long has it been since you've seen them, anyway?" Marie asked.

South shrugged. "It was right before my parents died, so about eleven years, I guess. They just kind of appeared one night when I was five, then disappeared when I was seventeen, into nowhere, it seemed. At any rate, I'm not surprised that they just kind of swept back in."

"And you don't have a problem with Sam, but Dean you don't like?"

"It's not that I don't like him, it's just complicated," South replied with a tight-lipped smile. "Anyway, I imagine they won't stay long. They never do. Rob's making lunch this afternoon though, if you want to meet them."

Marie squealed with delight; South rolled her eyes and laughed. She was sure that Marie would never know those boys well enough to understand, but she still warned Marie not to get too attached to either of them.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Marie assured, finishing her tea. "I'm waiting for someone special. Maybe an angel – a real one."

The girls had a good laugh about that, too, and turned their conversation to the local gossip. By the end of their get-together, South was feeling much more light-hearted.

.&.

About the time South was due back, Sam wandered down to the front of the apartment building under guise of looking for something in the car.

"Ready for lunch?" she asked as she approached him.

"I think so," Sam replied, leaning on the hood of the Impala. "South, there's something you should know."

"What, Dean's diseased, and I should get myself checked? Don't worry, Sammy, everything with me and Dean happened before whatever he's picked up over the years."

Sam laughed at her joke. "You've got him pegged."

"Always have."

"That's true." He waited for the laughter to die down. "No, just thought you'd like to know that he is planning on sticking around to check out the stuff with the doors and lights."

South shook her head and kicked at the curb. "I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?"

"Dean doesn't seem to think so."

"Is it terrible that I want him to stay, Sam? I mean … For more reasons than I want you to stay?" South felt stupid even as she said the words out loud, and even though she knew Sam would't judge her for her feelings.

"South," Sam sighed. "No one wants to see the two of you together, or at least have you around all the time, more than I do. Thing is, Dean hasn't changed. He isn't going to stay in one place and he isn't going to slow down. This is all he knows. And, forgive me for saying it, but I don't really see you being around without that tension between you two all the time. You'll always want more, and he will never be able to give it to you. Not because he doesn't want to – he just can't."

"You're right. Thanks for setting me straight."

Sam reached out and hugged her. "You know, Dad used to say that relationships took two things – chemistry and timing. You and Dean, you two have always had more chemistry than an A-bomb."

"Yeah, but the timing's a bitch," South finished for him. "Come on. Let's go get the jerk and head over for lunch."

.&.

Lunch was relatively uneventful, except for Rob and Thatcher being slightly surprised that South still had any connections from her past, and Marie finally throwing the knowing glance her way that South had been expecting.

After lunch, South decided she needed to embrace the Winchester brothers renewed presence in her life. She promised them that if they would let her take a nap, she would use her night off to celebrate the reunion with them.

Dean decided he and Sam would take advantage of South napping to ask some questions around town. Assuming it would be their best bet, they conveniently ran into Marie where she had said she would be grocery shopping after lunch.

"What are you boys doing here?" she smiled, choosing a few cans of soup and dropping them in her cart.

"South's napping so we're just keeping ourselves busy," Sam answered.

"Yeah, it's been great seeing her again," Dean added, sincerity in both his statement and his tone.

"She never really mentioned you guys before. Then again, South doesn't mention much about her past before she came here."

Sam nodded. "Sounds like South. Hey, Marie, have you noticed her acting any different in the last few months? More secretive than usual, depressed, irritable?"

"Not really. Why?'

"Just trying to get to the bottom of some things," Dean answered quickly. "Has she mentioned anything strange that's gone on?"

Marie stopped in the middle of an aisle and thought for a few seconds. "She did say she hasn't heard from Dylan for a few weeks. That's not unusual at the end of a deployment, but he was writing her at least once a week. For a grunt in the middle of it, that's pretty often."

Sam tried to stop Dean when he saw that look on his brother's face, but Dean's questions now took on a whole new agenda.

"Dylan, is that some guy she's seeing?"

Marie nodded, sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I thought she would have to you. I mean, I don't think she's necessarily planning on marrying him anytime soon, but they've been for – well, Let's see. She's been here for six years now … I guess she and Dylan have been together for a couple of years."

"And you said he's deployed?" Sam asked while Dean tried to stamp down his jealousy.

"He is. Should be home within the next month, but he goes on the kind of orders that no one talks about."

That was enough for both of the brother's just then. It was all Sam could do to hope this Dylan guy would one day replace his brother in South's heart – for her sake – and hope that Dean wasn't going to do that passive freak-out thing he always did.

The threesome continued to walk through the grocery store, but they didn't say any more about South. After helping Marie load up her groceries and saying their see-you-later's, the Winchesters went back to the Impala, and tried to figure out their next move.

"I feel like I need a nap now," Dean grumbled. "That chick can talk."

"She seems nice," Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, well, we didn't get anything out of her. Let's go talk to Old Man Thatcher, see what he knows."

.&.

Old Man Thatcher had more useful information for them. Being an older gentleman, he was more wary of newcomers and had noted that both the start of the flickering lights and the start of a higher awareness along with sleep deprivation in South coincided to the same time a strange man moved into town.

No one knew this man's name where he had come from, or why he was in the town now. He did not speak with many people it seemed. He frequented the bar, and while Thatcher was sure the man wasn't there every night, he couldn't say that he had noticed any sort of pattern in the man's patronage of the bar.

"There's something there. You know it, and I know it," Dean said as they say in the diner down from the bar. He had decided it was time for pie.

"You're really going to eat that whole piece of pie?" Sam asked, skeptical.

Dean looked down at his plate; he had a quarter of a pie sitting there and, yes, he planned to eat the whole thing. "Pie helps me think, Sammy."

"Whatever. All right, so this guy comes into town, sees South and – I don't know. Gets obsessed? Maybe he made a deal."

Dean shook his head. "South would know about him then. She'd be into him, too, you know? Maybe that Dylan guy hired someone to trail her while he's out of town."

"Which doesn't explain the lights or the thing with the door."

Dean stuffed his mouth with a bite of pie. "Vengeful spirit?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he dusted the pie crust bits from his sleeve. "I'll have to do more research. Expand out from his area. Hurry up and finish your pie so we can go."

.&.

South was aware of the brothers in the living room when she woke from her nap in the early evening. She hadn't meant to sleep that long, but a late night several weeks' worth of restless sleep now forced her to catch up on her sleep.

Although she had showered that morning, she woke up in a cold sweat and felt the need to shower again. As she shampooed and conditioned her hair, South tried to figure out what was keeping her from sleeping well.

It could have been Dylan's lack of letters. If there was any bad news, she was sure Dylan's family would have notified her by now. She had met them a few times and while South was content to not be particularly close to any of them, they seemed to like her.

Or maybe it was the lights and the door that opened and closed by itself – not to mention the things she hadn't told the boys about. The time she came home during a rainstorm to find all the windows open, and the door open, but not a thing missing. The time that her phone rang over and over, with no one on the other end. And, stranger still, when she overslept one of her lunch meetings, but Rob swore up and down she had been there. He had dismissed it as sleep deprivation on her part, saying she had seemed to be very out of it.

Something was trailing her, and South knew it. She just didn't know what or why. In truth, Dylan's lack of letters paled in comparison to the supernatural happenings in her life. That she had been tempted to track down the Winchesters more than once was a fact she wouldn't admit to anyone but God. That she had actually made a few calls was something she would take to the grave. Once she called Bobby Singer and that man told her what had happened to John, what the boys had been through in the last year, she stopped trying. She made Bobby promise not to tell them she had called and decided to take care of things on her own. It would take the sharpening of skills – abilities – she had not used in years. And that would take time.

She was debating about telling Dean and Sam everything when the brothers invaded her small bathroom.

"I don't remember you being this prissy, South," Sam teased. "Two showers in one day? _And _you're applying make-up again?"

South grinned. "Maybe I like to feel like a girl every now and then. Would you Neanderthals get out of here? This room is smaller than a jail cell and you guys are crowding me out. Especially Moose McFreak over here."

Sam pretended to pout but slunk back out to the living room to check in with Bobby. Dean took his brother's spot on the edge of the tub and watched her. The wistful look on his face did not escape South's notice, and the tone in his next words conveyed it as well.

"You know, I never told you enough when we were together just how beautiful you are."

South put down the lip gloss she had been about to apply and turned to lean back against the sink. "What's it going to be, Dean? You want to hash this out now or do you want to wait until you're about to leave again?"

"I don't want to fight with you at all, South," Dean assured her as he stood. "But I do with you had told me about Dylan."

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she had no idea why. Maybe because Dean knowing she was in a serious relationship was that last bit of moving on before she actually moved on. "Marie told you."

"She did. We went to do some questioning while you napped, and I guess I got more information that I bargained for."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"We did come in pretty unexpectedly. Took you by surprise."

She let out a deep breath. "I saw you coming, actually. Few days before you showed up." Then, she let slip out a small smile. "Why do you think I was so ready to deck you?"

Dean laughed and moved forward to hug her; South embraced him back. His smell was so familiar: leather, whiskey, and a touch of gunpowder. For now though, they were back on good terms.

"You ever think about telling Marie the truth?" Dean asked as they moved into the living room with Sam.

South settled on the couch next to Sam and nodded. "Lots of times. But, you know, it does funny things to a friendship when you tell a person that you're a psychic, and your dad was one of the most powerful fallen angels in existence – well, before he disappeared along with your mortal mother."

She thought it was funny, but for Dean, it was another reminder of why he had left her before. His face went somber. South wanted to ask about his change in mood, but Sam piped up.

"Have you ever been to Kure Beach?"

South nodded. "Marie and I went a month or so ago. We only had a couple days before we had to be back, so we made it an overnight trip. Hung out at the beach, saw a few sites along the way."

"Including Fort Fisher?"

"Yeah, why?"

Sam turned the laptop so they could all see it. "Legend is that there are ghosts of Civil War soldiers there – and one site even says that doors opening for no reason is one of the main occurrences."

"That would explain a lot," Dean agreed.

"Looks like we're going to Kure Beach tonight," South said on a deep inhale. "You guys book a room, I'll pack my bag."

Just as soon as she had stood up from the couch, Sam pulled her back down, and Dean shook his head. "Absolutely not. It is too dangerous."

"Oh, please. Really, you guys _need _me. You need a cover." South crossed her arms over her chest.

"Cover for what?" Dean scoffed. "We'll go burn some bones or perform a ritual –"

"You mean you'll hang around with a salt-loaded sawed-off while Sam does it."

"—And then this will all be over. You stay here, go to Thatcher's, whatever, but you're not going with us."

South narrowed her eyes. "You used to be much more fun, back when you let me go on hunts with you."

"I was a stupid kid back then, trying to show off for a girl who had her own secrets."

"Oh, that's the card you want to play?" South exclaimed. "Listen here, you ass –"

"All right, all right," Sam said, standing up and waving his hands in between them. "Enough, you two. Dean, you're my brother and I love you, but South's right on this one. We may not need a cover, but until we beat this thing, she's safer with us."

South made her way to pack again, while Sam sat on the couch to chuckle to himself. Dean was, clearly, not amused.

"Dude, you're the one who made her sit back down," Dean commented.

"Yeah, well, I like watching you guys argue," Sam smirked.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and followed/favorited! I'm still a SPN newbie, only in Season 3, so I'm getting some of the character nuances down, but doing my best. Hope everyone is enjoying!**

**Edit: The Fort Fisher lore is actual lore. My first posting of this chapter had the Fort in Atlantic Beach, but Kure Beach is the correct location. **


	4. The Treacherous Slope

**A/N: I wanted to start with an Author's Note this time to warn everyone **_**one last time**_** that I am a new SPN fan and mention that some things throughout the story (because I'm a new fan and because this is a work of fiction and some things are tweaked for the story's purpose) may not be canon. Now, please enjoy this long, fluffy chapter. Thanks! The song mentioned later is 'Lulabelle' by Hanson.**

* * *

The ride to Kure Beach was tense, to say the least. The only sound was the music blaring from the stereo. Every time Sam turned it down to start a conversation, Dean turned it back up without even moving his eyes from the road.

Once into the town, Sam navigated Dean towards an oceanfront hotel that was a little nicer than they would normally stay in. South bounced out of the backseat before anyone could say anything, and into the lobby.

"What is this?" Dean asked.

"She wanted to do something nice for us, for helping her – and I think probably to make up for not telling you about Dylan, and arguing with you about coming along."

Well, that was just perfect. How was he supposed to stay irritated with her when she was trying to make amends?

Sam climbed out of the passenger seat to retrieve their three bags from the trunk, along with a couple of weapons. Dean watched as South came back out from the lobby and pointed to one of the rooms just down the sidewalk before handing Sam a key. She sauntered over to the car; Dean got out, locking the door behind him.

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled out. "Nicer than most places we crash at."

"I figured," South answered, not at all condescending or smart. "I'm sorry I've been such a pain in the ass. I just thought all of this part of my life was over, you know? Weird things happening, and the psychic stuff, and, well, you. I thought I was moving on, and then all that stuff started happening. It's not an excuse, so don't look at me that way. I just – I'm sorry. I'm glad to see you again, even if I don't act like it. Let's have a hell of a night tonight, and we'll finish this tomorrow. What do you say?"

"We should really take care of it tonight," Dean answered.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Nothing's coming tonight, Dean. It's just the three of us."

She looked up at him with those tainted purple eyes, and he had the sudden urge to hold her. He ventured to reach out for her hand. South laced her fingers through his and swallowed hard.

"Let's go get some liquor," Dean finally smiled.

.&.

South couldn't help but laugh as Sam took another shot of tequila, wincing as the top-shelf, clear liquor slid down his throat.

"Shouldn't burn that much," Dean scoffed. "We got the good stuff."

Sam threw down the lime peel on the table and shook his head. "I'll never understand how you two can drink so much tequila."

"And I'll never understand how you can't," South returned. "Did we not teach you anything back in high school?"

Recovered from the shot, Sam waved his hands in the air. "All right, enough of my inability to shoot tequila. South, it's your turn."

"No abilities this time!" Dean warned with a playful smile.

South laughed as Sam poured more tequila than he should have into the glass, and she lined up a quarter. Yes, she had used her abilities somewhat, but promised not to anymore. They were getting elusive at this point anyway; South was a nephilim, yes, but she was a balanced nephilim. Her abilities and skills teetered extremely precariously on the line between mortal and fallen angel. After all the years of living purely mortal, and her fallen angel side only peeking through without summons from time to time, she found that balancing that line was something she had to learn all over again.

She let out a deep breath and bounced the quarter, but it missed completely. Groaning, she reached for the glass, took the shot, and then sucked the lime. She was pouring a shot for Dean when Sam started to gag.

"Oh Lord, he's gonna chunk," she said, praying he made it to the bathroom before he vomited.

"Sammy," Dean warned. "You gonna puke, you'd better head that way now!"

"I just need to go to bed – in the bathtub," Sam mumbled out as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Dean was up and out of his chair, helping his brother. After a couple of minutes and a shot by herself, South could hear the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. Dean came out to the small kitchen area, grabbed a bottle of water, then pulled a blanket and pillow from one of the beds. He disappeared into the bathroom again, and emerged a few minutes later, shaking his head.

"I love that kid, but he's gotta learn to hold his liquor."

South smiled in empathy. "He's like 50 feet tall. I don't know how he gets drunk at all."

"It's all in experience I guess," Dean replied, taking the shot South had started to pour before Sam got sick. "He'll be sleeping on the tile, I'm pretty sure."

South poured another shot and pushed it toward Dean. "Took one while you were helping him, so you've got to catch up."

Dean downed it, eyes on her the whole time. South could feel something warming in her stomach, and it wasn't the tequila. She needed fresh air.

"Come out to the patio with me," South prodded him. "I want to smell the ocean."

Dean obliged her without a word, opening the slider for her to pass through. She smiled at him as she walked by, a genuinely happy expression. Dean felt happier for it.

Once outside, South closed her eyes and let the ocean breeze blow through her hair and over her face. "I love the ocean. You know? Life seems so simple when I'm close to the ocean. Everything just makes sense and I can … I can breathe here, Dean. Really breathe."

How was he suddenly doing so much thinking before he spoke around her? He opened his mouth to tell her how alive she looked; how she had changed just since they stepped outside. But he could't keep pulling her to him. As much as he wanted to, it wasn't fair. She had a man, and if that man made her happy, that was all Dean needed to know.

He leaned forward on the wooden rail of the patio. "So this Dylan kid – how did you meet him?"

"You really want to talk about this?"

_Hell, no. _"Sure, let's hear it."

She slid onto the rail, balancing carefully, her feet dangling on the sand side of the patio. "Thatcher's. He came through town on his way back to base from training or a leave back home – I can't remember – and it was nothing out of the ordinary, except I knew he was going to be important. The next weekend, he came back. Then he started coming through during the week. Finally, he asked me on a date, and that was that."

She looked _so happy_. "And he's good to you? Treats you right?"

"No, you don't need to kick his ass," South smirked. "I'll be right back."

She squirmed through the slider; Dean turned to lean against the rail in an effort to watch her. She peeked in on Sam before finding a spare sheet in the closet and grabbing a bottle of tequila. He chuckled to himself as she took a swig while she fought to open the slider again.

"Come on, let's sit on the sand," South beckoned.

Dean didn't say anything, simply followed her onto the beach. He helped her spread the sheet out not too far from the patio, then commandeered the tequila for himself.

"Liquor hog," he sneered.

"Jackass."

He laughed, handed the bottle back over to her, and leaned back on one elbow. "You really love Dylan?"

"Oh, wow." South took a deep breath and a gulp of tequila, the set the bottle in the sand. "I mean, we've been together for a couple of years, and yeah – yeah, I love him. Not like – I don't know. Not like I thought I would love the man I would marry."

He wanted to ask her how sure she was about the seemingly imminent marriage, but he was already killing her buzz. He could tell. He didn't want to broach on their past, that wouldn't help either. Still, they had some good memories, there had to be something eh could bring up without irritating her.

"Hey, do you remember that first hunt I took you on?" he started.

South snorted. "The one we thwarted from the fathers and barely made it out alive from?"

"That's the one," Dean grinned. "I was trying to impress you, and you ended up impressing me. I had no idea you knew that much about any of it until you bound that ghost back to its grave."

"Well, no bones or remains of any kind, what else were we supposed to do?" South smiled, tried not to be cocky. "Never would have been alive to finish the binding chant if you and Sam hadn't acted so fast with the salt rounds."

They laughed about it together, remembering their clumsy save, and the harsh grounding that followed after from their parents. A month of nothing but school, chores, and staring at the ceiling had been well worth the satisfaction they all felt at the beginning of their relationship. He snuck her down to the tent rom at the Mosely's house that same night and kissed her for the first time.

Guilt shot through him when he thought about the last time he had kissed her, when she hadn't even known it was the last time. He had been so unfair to her, and Lord knows he hadn't wanted to leave. But, Sam was right. He was afraid he would pick her over the job – and not just in his heart. That tender balancing act she performed every day between her mortal and angel heritage could give out one day, and rebellion would be her only purpose. He would have to hunt her then, and end the evil that controlled her. He could stand neither the idea of ending her, nor the idea of letting her hurt anyone. At that point, it became easier to distance himself from her.

Yes, like she had said that first night, he had humiliated her. The whole school knew that Dean Winchester was supposed to escort her to her senior prom, with some elaborate plan to spoil her all the way from pictures to dinner to the dance to after-prom. But when the night came, she was all dressed up, and Dean was around the corner in the Impala, watching for the fall-out. There were a lot of tears, and to this day he didn't know if she went to that dance.

"You're a million miles away," South said softly, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I was just thinking – well, wondering, you know, if you, uh, went to your senior prom."

South sat up straight and finished off the tequila. She pulled her knees to her chest and nodded. "I did. After I re-did my make-up and pulled myself together, I made a couple of calls. My dad dropped me off with Marissa and those girls. We weren't close, but I had a decent time."

"You looked beautiful."

She frowned back at him.

"I was around the corner. I know, it's the chickenshit thing to do, but – I wanted to see you, even if I knew it was over by then."

South swallowed hard. "I don't want to know why. Not right now. I mean, if that's where you were going with that."

Dean sat up and reached out to wipe her tears. "I'm sorry, South."

"Me, too," she replied. "For being mad for so long. You ready to head back inside?"

"Yeah, sounds good. We should get some rest before tomorrow."

He helped her gather the sheet and shake it out, and they made way back up to the patio, where South dropped the sheet in a fold-out chair.

She turned to him just before they went inside. "What if we just call a permanent truce on all that shit, Dean? What's done is done. We can't go back and change it, and we can't change where we are now. But we can be friends again. This was nice tonight, just talking and catching up. I wanted to be able to look forward to it happening again. Let's just wipe the slate clean and start over. Please?"

Dean smiled. "Sounds good to me, but I think I'm getting the better end of the deal."

South laughed and held her hand out to him. "All right then. Dean Winchester – gosh, it's been almost eleven years. How the hell are you? It's so good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too, South," Dean returned, gently shaking her hand.

Their eyes met over the handshake, and that was all it took. In a matter of a few seconds, South's back was against the slider. Dean's hands were holding her face, and her arms were pulling him closer. The kiss was not as urgent as one would have expected it to be, but there was certainly and eagerness behind it.

For South, kissing Dean was like the ocean. Life was even simpler, those few loose ends came together, and her lungs felt as though they were taking in air for the first time. It was an ease and contentment she had not experienced for far too long.

Dean felt like he was coming home. A future he had never been concerned with much before started to take shape in his mind; images so crisp they might as well have been reality.

_South in one of his flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. She was barefoot and coming out to meet him on the front porch of an American-dream house. It was fall, with red and orange and yellow leaves falling from trees in the late afternoon sun. Then, children's cries could be heard from inside the house: one gleefully called him Daddy, and the other was a much younger cry, the kind that belonged to an infant. A little girl with curly brown pigtails and brilliant purple eyes came out to the porch, and Dean swept her up in his arms while South excused herself to check on their son. _

He hadn't noticed her forehead against his or the parting of their mouths until South went nearly limp in his arms.

"South," he pleaded. "South, come on, answer me."

A lazy smile spread across her lips. "Sorry. That one took a lot out of me."

Dean rolled his eyes and half-carried, half-walked her to where she could sit on the bed. He went to get her a glass of water and kneeled in front of her while she drank the whole thing down.

"Between the tequila and your little mind trick outside, I really think you've outdone yourself," he told her while he checked her for any signs of anything other than perfect health.

"I'm fine," she promised. "And that _little mind_ trick was both of us, buddy."

"Both of us?"

She tapped her temple. "If I tip a little more to that non-mortal side, I can take my thoughts and your thoughts and manipulate reality."

"Hence why it seemed so real," Dean surmised, taking a seat next to her.

She nodded, once. The light-headedness from her "mind trick" had passed, but the tequila she was still feeling the full effects of. She let out a deep sigh and set her chin on his shoulder.

"Dance with me," she whispered.

Dean laughed and put an arm around her. "You are either more drunk or more out of it than I ever thought you could be."

South shook her head and wriggled out from under his arm. "Come on, Dean. _You _stood me up, and therefore, _you _owe me."

Well, she had him there. Admitting defeat, he pulled her from the bed with him. He put one hand on her hip, and she placed one arm over his shoulder. Their free hands joined, and he swayed them back and forth.

_Beauty queen that you are  
Put you down for the missing star_

_Take your picture for all the world to see  
Lulabelle's leaving the ball  
No more reason to stay  
People to see but everyone here knows your name  
From the light on your face and the frame that hangs in the hall  
Where lovely girls go  
Lulabelle goes  
Lulabelle knows_

It was a little known fact – meaning only her parents and the Winchesters ever knew – that her first name was, in fact, Lulabelle. Southern, her mother's maiden name and her middle name, had turned into South before she was even born. South laughed softly as she looked up at him. The song was actually kind of sad, but since he had heard it, he had sang to her many times.

"I had almost forgotten about that song," she confessed. "Almost."

"Yeah? Not me. Sam caught me singing it to myself while I shaved the other day."

She laughed. Dean Winchester was not easily embarrassed, but this, she knew, had embarrassed him. Showing vulnerability wasn't his best quality, either. South couldn't help herself; she went up on tiptoe to kiss him again.

The dancing stopped and everything got quiet. Dean embraced her around the shoulders, feeling her hair fall over his hands. It was amazing, having her close again. But, his mind, hellbent on ruining everything, reminded him that she was drunk, and not his.

"South," he whispered, taking a step back. "We shouldn't be doing this."

South had the decency not to look surprised that he said that. And, really, she wasn't. "I'm not under any delusions here. I know that we can't just – and I can't just –" Damn it, why couldn't she finish a sentence? "It's so stupid, so out of character for me. I just thought, after the kiss on the patio, maybe we would have this one last night and then we could finally move on with our lives."

"What about Dylan?"

Her eyes teared up again, effectively breaking his heart. "I have so far to go with him. Yes, he says he wants to marry me, and I love him and I know he'd be good for me. But he doesn't know what you know. He doesn't know about my parents and my background. He doesn't know that my name is Lulabelle. He doesn't know – there's a lot, it seems like."

Dean took a deep breath and studied her carefully. "All right. I'll give you these next couple of days. Tonight and tomorrow, but whenever we're back in town, that's it. This is our closure, South."

She nodded and hooked her pinky with his. "Closure. I promise."

"Me too," he replied, slinking closer to her. Before he could kiss her again, he stepped back and held up his index finger. "This could get loud, I better make sure the bathroom door is shut. Don't want to wake up Sam."

South laughed as he ran off to the bathroom and then came back to her. He tickled her sides as they backed up to the bed. She laughed even harder and reached out to pinch her sides.

Doing them both a favor, she changed reality, just a bit, just for the night. This was exactly where they were supposed to be, and tonight would lead to other nights that would lead to the future Dean had seen earlier. She worried about overexerting herself again, but found that that small reality was the easiest illusion she had ever put out there.


	5. Reality Check

**Apologies to those who already read 'Dean's Letters'. That is actually chapter six; here is chapter five. Some things should make a little more sense, and the flow is better. Forgive me for uploading in the wrong order!**

* * *

Dean woke the next morning with the prettiest girl he had ever seen sleeping on his bare chest. He smiled when he remembered everything; how perfectly right it had felt. Then, he remembered that he had promised her the next couple of days without mention of Dylan. He didn't want to think about going back to her current hometown. He would just live in the now. For now.

The purple-eyed girl started to wake. He slipped out from under her, pulled on his jeans and followed his nose to the smell of coffee in the kitchen.

"How's life, Jose?" Dean joked with his brother.

Sam shook his head and sipped at his black coffee. "You guys suck for making me drink that much."

"You were the one tipping back the glass," Dean reminded him. "Let's get some breakfast, then we'll head over to the Fort, see what we can find."

"Good idea. I'll wake South up if you want to take the bathroom."

Dean shook his head. "No! I mean – no, it's fine. I'll wake her up."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh God, don't tell me she's naked in your bed?"

"No," Dean answered. "It's the bed she claimed."

Sam groaned and covered his face with his heads. "Dean! She's practically engaged! To a Marine, I'll add. One who is supposed to be coming back from deployment soon and if he finds out is likely to –"

"Relax, Sammy," South smiled from the doorway between the kitchenette and the bedroom. "Dean and I are just pretending for the weekend. No one is going to find out."

"Why do I feel like _No one is going to find out_ will be the words they put on your gravestone, South?" Sam groaned.

"I'm getting in the shower. South, you want to join me?" Dean teased as he headed that way.

"Oh, I think we've traumatized your brother enough for one morning," South replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Really, Sam. Everything's going to be fine."

Sam took the pot of coffee and refilled his cup. "I knew what we were doing when we got here."

"What do you mean?" South frowned. "I thought we all knew – we came to find the ghost that's haunting me at Fort Fisher."

"No, not _here_. Your town." He paused, to see if she would catch on. "Bobby called me after you called him, looking for us. He didn't want Dean to make any rash decisions, getting to see you again."

"What did Bobby tell you?"

"That you were in something big. Oh, you didn't tell him that in so many words, but he knew by how evasive you were – and by the fact that you were looking for us – that it had to be serious."

South nodded. "And what did you tell Dean?"

"That there wasn't anything on the map, and we should stop in town to get a night's rest before moving on."

South let out a deep breath. "Thank you for that."

"It's not the Fort Fisher ghost, is it?" Sam asked.

"No, it's not. At least I don't think it is. How did you figure it out?"

"You were too nonchalant about not taking care of things last night, for starters. But, when you spend the night on a gross tile floor, you get a lot of time to really think about things. So what gives, South?"

She set down the coffee cup. "It is serious. I don't know exactly what – I hid my abilities from myself for a long time. Except for popping up out of my control and a couple emergencies here and there, I haven't used them for the better part of five years. The night that I came home and everything in my apartment was open, I tried to sit and think about what it could be – and everything came back, so easy. The psychic part, I mean. It was like someone – I'll let you guess who – knew that I would need to figure it out. But I get tired easy. Last night I put out a different reality for Dean, and I nearly fainted. So I only get bits and pieces. The most important piece is, though, that I don't make it out of this."

Sam's face fell. "Tell me you're being dramatic."

"So the reason why I'm letting this go on for a little bit – why I'm not quite so worried about Dylan knowing about it – is because if that's going to be the case, then I'd like to have a few more … memories with him. Dean, I mean."

"When are you going to tell him?" Sam prodded. "South, you have to tell him."

"I'll tell him when I can't avoid telling him anymore. You, Samuel Winchester, you better keep your mouth shut. You may be two feet taller than I am, but I can still kick your ass."

She had successfully lightened the mood. Sam charged forward and threw her over his shoulder, and carried her out the slider to the beach. She protested with screams and squeals, but even in his hungover state, Sam wasn't going to give in. Not until he plunked her right in the ocean.

"Try me again when you grow," Sam teased as she splashed water at him.

South stood up from the water and trekked up to the sand where Sam was watching her. "It wasn't just Dean, you know."

"What?"

"If I had to come up with the happiest memories in my life, ninety-nine percent of them would involve you guys, Sam. I wanted to have this time with my friend, too."

Sam smiled sadly and nodded. "Thanks, South."

.&.

Once everyone was showered and they'd had breakfast, the trio made way for Fort Fisher. There was the usual observing and checking things out, and, of course, the questioning.

"What's the deal with the ghosts?" Dean asked an elderly tour guide.

"They're harmless," the man waved off. "They appear here and there, or open doors. Nothing too alarming."

"Any of them ever catch on to someone? Follow them out of the fort?" Sam asked.

The tour guide shook his head. "Not that I remember ever hearing of. They stay around here – story is, they are guarding Fort Fisher because they couldn't before."

They thanked the man for his time and re-convened near the main entrance. They didn't have much to go on, of course, but South had to give them something.

"What about a binding?" she suggested. "Like that first hunt. This all goes too far back to find out exactly who this ghost is. Going through all those graves? Some of them aren't even marked. We need to just bind them all here."

"How do we know if it works?" Dean pointed out.

South shrugged. "We do this, you boys take me for a celebratory dinner, and tomorrow morning, we go back. If everything is normal …"

"Then it worked," Sam finished for her. "But can you bind the whole place?"

"Only one way to find out." She stepped just outside of the entrance, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

If she was lucky, the thing following her would be locked in there with the rest of the ghosts.

.&.

"Dinner was good," South said, laying on her stomach on the same sheet out on the sand. Dean was on his back next to hear, watching the sky and dozing off to the sound of the ocean.

"It was. I haven't been that full for a while."

"Yeah, me too." She snuggled up next to him, her cheek on his chest; he snaked his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Tell me what it would be like."

"What would be like?"

"You know. The life we saw last night."

"You tell me. That was all you."

"It wasn't, I told you. It was your thoughts and my thoughts. I just put them together and made it seem real. So, tell me. Give me the details."

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "That town you're in now is nice, Lulabelle, but I think we'd be back in Kansas. Always saw us in the MidWest. I guess I'd own a garage, and still hunt. Can't see my life without that."

"Of course," she smiled.

"Of course. I think you'd probably – I don't know. I always saw you teaching kids. Little kids. Like preschool or kindergarten. Until the babies came. Then you'd stay home with them, and we wouldn't teach them anything about the supernatural world. Except we might have to when they started doing some of the stuff you do."

South laughed. "Those particular traits are passed down from the father, thank you very much."

"So why did our daughter have purple eyes?"

_Our daughter_. Music to her ears. "That's a physical trait. And it was imagined, remember? Not fact."

Dean nodded. "You ready to go back in?"

"I am."

He stood and helped her up. They held hands up to the slider; Dean pulled the door open, and South slipped through. Sam was already asleep, or pretending to be asleep, so the two of them climbed into the other bed together, Dean on his back and South with her head on his chest.

"Last few hours," Dean said.

"I don't want to think about that," South whispered. "Just kiss me good night and think about good things."

Dean kissed her as she had directed, but all he could think about as she drifted off to sleep next to him was that tomorrow they would go back, things would be fine, and life would come between them again.

.&.

It was raining when they returned to her apartment, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The lights didn't flicker, the door shut and locked without opening again, and, after a thorough look-though, the brothers confirmed no traces of EMF anywhere in the apartment.

"So, I guess you're set," Dean said, a lilt of sadness in his voice.

South nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Wait – what about Thatcher's? You guys should check that out, too."

Sam agreed it was a good idea. "We'll hang out here until then, if that's all right."

"Of course. I'm going to throw in some laundry downstairs, then we can just relax, watch a movie. Sorry you're missing out on so much action on this one," South smiled.

"I think you and I got a little action," Dean joked.

South rolled her eyes and Sam groaned. Leave it to Dean to turn a simple statement into a dirty joke.

.&.

Thatcher's turned out to be clean, too. Although she wasn't carrying on with him like she had in Kure Beach, Dean could tell she was afraid he would drive away and disappear. He wanted to reassure her, which could have been why he convinced Sam to stay one more night. They would leave in the morning, no more delays.

Sam and Dean hung around Thatcher's for the evening, mostly not causing any trouble – and even when they did, it wasn't directly their fault. Two college-aged girls had come in, spent a little time in a booth giggling over the brothers before the blonde got brave and sidled up next to Dean. The girl got turned down, and South tried not to look pleased. She had no right to be jealous. When the blonde continued her advances, however, South decided it was time to intervene. That intervention resulted in an all-out brawl. The blonde was escorted out by her friends, bloody-faced and limping, while South nursed a black eye, scratches over her collarbone, and cut on her lip.

Once it was over, Marie called it an early night and ushered the few remaining customers out of the bar. Sam helped her close up, and then walked her home, promising to come back before Dean and South headed back to her apartment.

"Hey, I have a surprise for you," Dean told South when she finished loading the clean glasses behind the bar. She hopped up on the counter while he took a seat on the stool next to her. "You know we took all those pictures last night, and I thought you'd like to have some copies."

He handed her a drugstore photo album; the sleeves inside the book were full. Pictures of the three of them, of the brothers, of South, and South with each of the brothers. She stopped on the second to last picture, of the three of them on the beach. They had the waitress at the restaurant take it for them, the trio hunched together around the table, South in the middle and both of the brothers with their arms around her.

"You know, this looks really similar to that picture –" she started.

"That your mom took the night we all met," Dean finished while she flipped to the last picture – the exact one she had just been referring to. "I've kept that picture for a long, long time. Now there's two of them."

South closed the book and held it to her chest. "Thanks, Dean. This means a lot to me."

He stood to hug her, then pulled back to check out her injuries. "That shiner looks pretty cute on you."

South laughed and tilted her head up to him. They had kept strict boundaries since returning to her town, but now, with the pictures and having the bar to themselves …

"South?"

She broke her gaze from Dean's and looked to the door. "Oh my God! Dylan!"

The photo book was set to the side as she slid off the counter and ran to embrace her boyfriend. Tears fell from her eyes as Dylan embraced her back, picking her up from the ground. They exchanged I-miss-you's and kissed passionately before Sam stepped back in the front door. South looked to see who had walked in when she heard the bell over the door; she scrambled out of Dylan's arms.

"I'm sorry, I was just so excited to see you … Dylan, this is Sam Winchester, a very good friend from when I was a kid. And this is his brother, Dean. We all grew up together," South introduced.

Dylan shook hands with the brothers. "Nice to meet you guys. I don't think I've ever met someone from before South moved here."

"Well, we kind of snuck up on her," Dean replied. "But we were just leaving. We should find a hotel for the night."

"Yeah, let you two catch up," Sam added.

"No, stay at the apartment," South insisted. "It's fine."

"It is," Dylan agreed. "I've got to stay back on base tonight – took the couple hours they gave us to drive up here, and I can't stay but a few more minutes. South, baby, I'll call you in the morning. You can tell me what happened to your eye."

"Okay," she smiled at him. He kissed her goodbye, and she waited until he was gone to say anything else. "I'm sorry, I didn't know he was coming home today."

"Of course," Dean replied, trying not to give her the impression that he was upset. They had both known this moment would come. "Maybe we should all get back. Been a busy weekend and we need the rest before we hit the road again."

South didn't even know what to say next. She felt like she needed to apologize more, but wasn't this exactly what they had planned on? Dean turned off the lights while she waited at the door, locking it behind them.

.&.

The boys were up early the next morning to get on the road. Sam had tracked down a case a few states away, and they needed to make good time getting there. Sam was going to get them coffee from the diner, and South walked downstairs with him while Dean finished packing.

"It really was good to see you again," she told Sam. "I don't think we caused nearly enough trouble, though."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. This may be a stupid question, but are you going to be okay?"

South drew in a deep breath. "I sure hope so."

"All right. If there's _anything_ we can do, you give us a call. If you can't reach us, call Bobby."

"I will, I promise." She accepted the hug that poor, tall Sam nearly had to bend half-over to give her. "You boys take care of yourselves. And keep in touch. It better not be another eleven years before I hear from you."

"I'll make sure we're checking in," Sam promised. "Take care of yourself, South."

She hugged him just a little longer before finally releasing him to complete his errand. She waited at the Impala, knowing Dean would be not too far behind them.

"Time to go shoot some stuff," Dean grinned. "My favorite part of the job."

South laughed. "Some things never change. You boys be careful. Sam said he'll make sure someone's checking in …"

"You'll hear from me. I promise." He hooked her pinky with his. "Pinky promise. But it's a two way street."

"I know."

She was leaning against the driver's side door; he put a hand out on the roof of the car. "You remember when we first came here, and I mentioned a letter?"

"Yeah," South frowned. "I thought you were either making it up or were going to tell me you lost the guts to send it."

Dean shook his head. "Both of those sound like me, but I actually thought, I think, that it was going to be my excuse to see you. Even if it wasn't face-to-face, I'd get to see for myself that you were doing all right. Then time just kept passing."

"That does tend to happen."

"Well, I left that letter, and a new one, on your bed. Didn't think that I'd have the guts to let you take it in person, so made sure you'd still get it."

"I appreciate that." South watched as he struggled to know what his next move should be. Solving the problem for him, she threw her arms around his neck and hung on tight. "Thank you, Dean. For everything."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Lulabelle." His voice was low and quiet. "You call us if you need anything, all right? I'll be here right away."

"I know you will. Guess I have to let you go now."

"I guess so," he replied, leaning out of the hug as she moved away from the door. He kissed her forehead and got behind the wheel. "Make sure Dylan takes care of you."

She smiled. "I will. And I'm sure if he doesn't, you'll be right there to teach him a lesson."

"Damn straight."

South laughed as he pulled away slowly, heading to stop at the diner to pick up Sam before leaving town. Dylan would be calling her any time, so she needed to freshen up.

First though, she was going to read those letters.


	6. Dean's Letters

There were two envelopes set on the foot of her bed. South reach for the first one, marked _Then_ on the outside. She had expected that the letter would be on some hotel letterhead, from the notepads the places always left on the nightstand or desk. But, no, this was on an actual page of lined paper.

_South –_

_It's the middle of the night, and we just stopped in this crappy place to sleep for the night. Dad was nearly asleep at the wheel and, even though I told him I could drive, he wasn't having it. You know how in-control John Winchester likes to be. Actually, I don't know why any of that matters. The point is, I'm six hundred miles away from you, but I feel like I should walk back and explain everything. Apologize. Beg you to take me back. _

_But I can't. I hope that someday you'll forgive me, but I don't expect that you'll ever take me back. And I can't blame you. I am sorry, South, for leaving like I did. I shouldn't have disappeared. But, if you could understand why I left, why I left you, then maybe you can understand why I did it. _

_I've always known you were different. And not just in that pick-up line kind of way – I remember when I was seven-years-old and we came to your house in the middle of the night. Me and Sammy were starving, and you knew it. You were five, and you just knew that we were hungry. Then, you knew when Dad was coming back in with our stuff. I wasn't sure about you then, but after Lion-O and after a few weeks, I started to get it. You were (are) different in a special way. I was ten before Dad explained to me that you were psychic. _

_But there was the other stuff, too. If you got sick, you were never sick for very long. You learned so much faster than the rest of us. You just seemed so much more capable than the rest of us. I was always in awe of you, but the more your abilities developed, the more fascinated by you I was. I thought for a while that what was actually falling in love with you was just that fascination. I know better now. I didn't fall in love with that crazy, all-knowing mind of yours. I didn't fall in love with your ability to make dreams seem like reality. I fell in love with you. The funny, caring, loyal, tough girl that I've known for twelve years. That's who I fell in love with. Just you. Mortal, or otherwise. _

_Last week, when Dad and I left for a hunting trip, and Sammy stayed behind to study for that math test with you, we had to kill a nephilim. It wasn't easy, I'll tell you, but the guy had it coming. The more research I did, the more I realized, you're nephilim. I've always known about your father – about him being cast from Heaven because of a heavy thirst for justice – but it never occurred to me what that meant for you, until now. _

_Dad says you're balanced. It means you toe the line. If you ever lose control of that balance, you could go full on rebellion. You'd be working for the wrong side, just like the guy we killed. It runs through your veins, your entire being. Dad says he believes that you have a good handle on the balance, and that I shouldn't have been so quick to act. _

_If you lost control, and I was closest to you … what would I do? Let you live and continue to wreak havoc on the earth? It goes against everything I do. But ending you – I can't even bring myself to put it any other way. That goes against everything I feel for you. _

_So I made the decision to distance myself. You live your life, and I'll live mine. Maybe we'll cross paths again someday, but I hope it's not in a worst case scenario. In the meantime, be careful. Hold on to that balance, South. _

_If you need anything, get in touch with Bobby. He'll know where we are and how to get to us if you run into anything that you really need us for. With your dad around though, you'll be all right. _

_I do love you, South. I have for a long time. You're my best friend, and, besides Sammy and Dad, I don't think I'll ever be this close to anyone again. I'll always love you. I wish things were different. _

_What else is there to say? That's it I guess. I'm not asking you to keep loving me, but please, don't hate me. _

– _Dean _

Her chest was heavy, but she wasn't going to cry. All of that had been so long ago, and South had often wondered if her heritage had anything to do with him leaving. Now she knew for sure.

She was more upset about his promise to be around if she ever needed anything. All three of their numbers had been changed after they disappeared from Lawrence but Bobby's was the same. She had called him out of instinct after her parents died; he was the one to help her set up funeral arrangements and even stayed with her for some time after her parents died, until she graduated high school and took off on her own.

John and Sam called, from blocked numbers, to express their condolences and tell her about the case they were on, in the midst of settling in a new town enough to get Sam enrolled to finish his junior and senior year of high school. Sam wrote her a couple of times, his letters filled with superficial conversation, and never mentioning Dean.

She had to move past it. The last few days were supposed to be their closure, and if they were going to continue to be friends and stay in touch, she couldn't keep holding a grudge against him for what had happened before. Deciding to leave it all in the past, she put that letter back in its envelope and opened the one marked _Now_. As she pulled the paper from the envelope, a metal object fell from the folds of the letter. She held it in front of her face, let the shock wash over her, and slid it on her right middle finger. Just like she had seen him wearing it.

_Lulabelle –_

_First of all, I'm laying claims to that. You want to tell Dylan what your first name is, that's fine, but just don't let him call you that, all right?_

_I had all these things I wanted to say to you. Thought this letter would be longer than the last one, but now I don't know really what to say. Or how to say it, really. _

_Guess I'll start with the ring. I want you to have it, so don't go calling me and trying to send it back or anything. The night that Dad and I killed that nephilim, he pointed to Mom's ring and told me that I should give it to the girl I would marry. Told me he knew what I was thinking, and that I had two choices: I could give you that ring, we'd stick around until you graduated, then take you on the road with us, or I could keep the ring and disappear from your life. You know what I chose, I know now that I chose wrong. So, it's yours now. It was meant to be yours, and I've kept it from you for too long._

_I won't keep beating a dead horse about the past. We've put that behind us, and I just want to concentrate on the future. I wish I could say our future, but I know better. Dylan seems like a good man. As long as you're happy, South, that's what's important. That's what's always been important. Even if I didn't always choose right for your happiness. _

_No changing numbers this time. Sam and I, you know how we live, but if you need anything, you call. Right away. No hesitations. Whatever I'm doing, wherever I'm at, it's never too important that I can't be there for you. _

_I guess the only thing left to say is that I've realized something over the last few days – I'm not over you. I never stopped loving you. Just like I knew before, I've never been that close to anyone since you and, after that glimpse into our could-have-been, I'll never be able to find someone who measures up. It's only you, just like it's always been. _

– _Dean _

Now she was crying. When she read those letters, it seemed like she was stupid not to call him right now and run off with him. At the same time, how did she just leave Dylan? He had never betrayed. Yes, the past was behind them, but she had to make the safe, right decision. Dylan deserved her.

Her phone rang next to her on the bed. Dylan. She tried to stop her tears as she answered the call. "Hey, you."

"Morning, babe. Did I interrupt your visit?"

"No, the boys left a little bit ago. Had to get back on the road."

"I'm sure you'll see them again soon." He was trying to be nice but South could tell he was relieved that Dean and Sam were on their way away from town. She couldn't blame him; he _had_ just about walked in on her kissing Dean. "Listen, the planners around here were able to get a welcome home ceremony planned for the morning. Starts in just over an hour. Can you make it?"

"Of course," she answered earnestly. "Let me just give Marie a call and let her know I'll be out for a while so she can take over at the bar."

They ended their call with the usual sentiments. South set the phone down, looked down at the ring on her hand, and took a deep breath. She needed to see what was coming next.

.&.

_Black swirls of smoke faded out to a large building full of people. It seemed like a church, but it was too dark. Where the crucifix would be, there hung three limp, decaying bodies. South searched for herself, and the vision closed in on the altar. A man was there, in dark robes, with an inverted cross drawn on his forehead and hands. He held a dagger, the tip dripping with tar, toward the sky before looking down at the woman bound to a table. _

_There she was. In the blink of an eye, she was that woman, tied down and unable to move. The man in the dark robes moved over her, his dagger pointed down. He murmured words in Latin as he hovered over her. Her Latin was rusty, but South caught one word she could easily translate: __sacrificium__._

_Sacrifice. They were going to sacrifice her. She didn't know what for, but she knew that she wasn't going to stick around and let it happen. She struggled and fought, but before she had time to make any sort of significant move, that dagger plunged into her abdomen. The only thing South could hear over the noise of pain and her own screams ringing in her ears, was a baby crying somewhere in the distance. _

.&.

South forced her eyes to open. She didn't know what any of that meant, but she needed to figure it out. She typed out a quick message to Sam, swore him to secrecy, then forced herself to get ready to meet Dylan on the base.

She sat dutifully with the other girlfriends and wives while the Welcome Home ceremony took place. Dylan stood among the ranks, a disciplined stance and blank expression. She tried to appear interested, but she couldn't stop thinking – thinking about a lot of things, and none of which involved her boyfriend.

When it was over and the troops were released to their families, South stood and clapped, waiting for Dylan to sweep her off the bleachers. He didn't disappoint, what with the earnest embrace and sweet kiss.

"Like coming home twice," he smiled. "Come on. Let's see if anyone wants to get lunch."

The last thing South wanted to do was to pretend in front of a group of people that there weren't a million other things going on in her life. Okay, only one or two things, but they were big things. Not wanting to disappoint Dylan, however, she agreed and they found several couple who agreed to go out to lunch with them.

A few hours later, they were laying under the covers of South's bed. Dylan kissed her deeply, but South couldn't give him what he wanted. Not with the taste of Dean still on her mind, her body, and her heart.

"Come on. It's been seven months," Dylan prodded.

"I know," South drawled out. "But you just got back. Shouldn't we get used to each other again before we just jump to that part?"

"I'm the same as I was before," Dylan assured her.

"You say that, but you don't really know yet. War changes people, Dyl. You've seen a lot of things and experienced a lot of things the last seven months – you need to make sure you're worked through all of it."

He sighed in defeat. "I suppose you're right. I did miss you though, South. All of you."

She smiled back at him and kissed him quickly. She laced her fingers through his and snuggled under the covers a little more. "Let's get a little sleep – I've had a long few days. I'll let you take me to dinner tonight, then we will come back here and talk, okay?"

"Okay," Dylan agreed after kissing her forehead. "Hey, when did you get this ring?" He was twirling the silver band around her finger.

"Oh, Dean and Sam gave it me before they left." Only a partial lie. "It was their mother's wedding ring."

"And they gave it to you? Seems a little too important to be giving an old friend."

"Their mother died when they were very young – I wasn't even two when it happened. Their father never remarried, but our families were extremely close. So I guess I'm the woman they've known the longest. One of those friendships where no matter the time in between, you just pick up where you left off." _Just with the friendships? _her mind teased.

This was on the verge of turning into a fight, and Dylan had just come home. South didn't want the guilt of that riding on her shoulders along with the fact that she had been with someone else while Dylan was on his way home to her. She snuggled under his chin and closed her eyes. Dylan held her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head; everything was all right for the moment.

If only it would last.


	7. The Past Before the Future

Dean Winchester was _not_ a needy person. In the few relationships he had been in, he had always felt like he held the cards and dealt them out as necessary. With South, not only had that never been the case, but it certainly wasn't now.

Before, Dean had felt they were on an even playing field. Now he was certain South held the cards. She was off getting the happy life she deserved with a man who wouldn't leave her alone all the time or put her in danger, and he was traveling the country, hunting things most people didn't even think existed.

"Why don't you just call her?" Sam finally told him

Dean shrugged, trying to maintain a nonchalant attitude about the whole thing "Call who?"

"You're such an idiot. You know exactly who I'm talking about. I think South would probably want you to call."

"I'm not going to disappear like I did last time, but I can't call her and say what I want to say. I can't ruin what she has now. So I'll call her when I figure out something else to say."

"Maybe you can't call and say what you want to say," Sam started, "but you can still call."

Dean turned the music up, a clear sign that he was done with the conversation. Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. He quickly read the text waiting for him before replying.

_I'll look into it. In the meantime, someone is missing you an awful lot, and it isn't me. Call him before we both go crazy. _

"Did you just text her?" Dean growled, reaching for Sam's phone.

Sam pulled it away. "You're driving, could you keep your hands on the wheel, please?"

"Sam, I swear to God …"

"What? You wouldn't talk to her. It's _just_ South."

"It's not just South, and you know that. Not for me. I can't pretend like there's hope for us when clearly there's not. All right? And damn it, this isn't high school. I don't need my little brother texting my girl for me!"

"You just called her your girl," Sam pointed out. He tried to hold back his laughter. An opportunity to see his brother coming undone like this was one Sam liked to keep going for as long as possible.

"Shut up. Bitch."

"Jerk."

.&.

Dinner was back in town with some friends, after which Dylan stole her away to a hotel room.

"I already gave the bar crew a head's up that I would be stealing you for the night," he smiled as he opened the door. "Marie packed a bag for you."

South walked in and dropped to the bed. "Just seems like a bit much. That's all. I thought you'd come home and we would hole up for a couple days, but …" But that was before Dean. Before she had become so terribly confused about everything.

"I want to talk to you about some things in my future," Dylan told her, pulling up a chair to face her. "I want it to be _our _future, and a neutral setting seemed to be the right place to talk."

South knew why he thought that. He had tried to have a conversation with her about the future before he deployed, but because South expected everyone close to her to die or disappear, she refused to discuss the future until he came back. Talking about the future could be like pulling teeth with her. Thankful he hadn't presented a ring, at least, she motioned for him to continue.

"I've got a chance to not deploy for a few years, at least. Maybe for the rest of my career. A chance for us to start our lives together, somewhere other than this town."

South frowned. "This town is not that bad. Why does everyone want to leave it?"

"What if you could leave here and go home?" Dylan grinned.

"Go home? Dylan, this is my home."

"Back to Lawrence, baby. I've got the option for a recruiting job in Lawrence."

"Lawrence." It came out on a whisper. Since she had graduated and put Lawrence in her rearview mirror, South had not once thought about returning there, for any reason. That was not entirely true, though. The vision she and Dean had shared, that house was in Lawrence. "Dylan, I –"

"It will be perfect," he promised her.

"Listen. There are some things about my past that you need to know before you decide if you want a future with me."

"There's nothing you could say that would make me not want a future with you. I love you, South."

"Lulabelle," she replied. "My first name is Lulabelle. My middle name, Southern, was my mother's maiden name. The nickname started before I was even born, I think."

Dylan stood and reached for her hand. South accepted and allowed him to pull her from the mattress. "I love you, Lulabelle."

South shook her head. "Don't call me that, Dylan. I just – it's part of what I want to tell you."

His face fell and he went for the mini-bar. South berated herself for not being more caring about his feelings. She was mixed up, but she didn't have to confuse Dylan as well. Not more than was inevitable.

"I love you, Dylan. I do. These things are just," she took a deep breath. "Hard to talk about."

Her phone buzzed from the table. Dylan picked it up, looked at the name on the screen, and handed it over to her. "Sam. Perfect timing."

"I need to take this," she said, holding a finger up. "But I'll be quick, I swear."

Dylan poured himself a drink, still looking upset as she slid out to the balcony. South answered the call and told Sam to be quick.

"All right," he replied, probably knowing why she couldn't talk long. "The vision you had – sounds like a Satanic ritual from way back – like 15th century – when they would sacrifice a woman suspected of being a witch in order to communicate with the devil."

"I'm not a witch," South said. "Why would I be that woman?"

"You're not a witch, but you are psychic. Back in those times, it was pretty much all the same thing."

South pursed her lips. "What about the baby crying?"

"Still nothing on that. Just wanted to check in and let you know what I had while I had a minute."

"Okay." She paused, contemplating asking about Dean, then decided not to. "Thanks Sam. Tell Dean I'll call later or tomorrow. Take care of yourself."

"You do the same. Bye."

She ended the call and went back inside. Dylan had changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt, so she pulled the sweatpants and a tank top that Marie had packed for her from her bag and took a few minutes to change, brush her teeth and hair, and otherwise prepare for bed. Dylan was already in the bed, under the covers and staring up at the ceiling when she returned.

"Do you want to hear about this or not?" she asked quietly, sitting on the bed and facing him.

Dylan shrugged. "I guess. If you have time to tell me."

South rolled her eyes. "That's not fair. I'm trying to be open with you. You want to talk about our future? Fine. But you have to listen to me talk about this first. There's a lot you don't know about me – things that might make you change your mind once I tell you."

Dylan's features softened. "I don't think anything could make me change my mind about you."

South waited for him to sit up. "I've never had to tell anyone this before, so I'm not really sure where to start."

"Just say it. I don't need you to sugarcoat anything or ease me into it."

_You say that now,_ she thought to herself. "All right, fine. I'm not exactly your average girl, Dylan. There are things about me that are different, that you've never encountered before and –"

"Sweetheart, I know you're different. Yes, you're a little tough on the outside, but over the last couple of years, I think we've made a lot of progression."

"That's not what I mean. I mean that there are abilities that I have that have been passed on to me genetically that make me different." She paused to wait for him to say something; he stayed quiet. "My mother was human. Mortal. The girl-next-door, really. She was amazing. But my father was … not. He was –" Deep breath. "—a fallen angel."

Dylan frowned and placed a hand on her forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

South pushed him away and stood from the bed. "This is exactly why I don't tell anyone about this. You think I'm crazy, right? Well, I'm not. He was a fallen angel, cast out of Heaven because he thought he knew more about Justice than God. He came here and when he met my mother, he fell in love with her. He told her everything, and she believed him. They got married, had me. Spiritual traits are passed down from the father, so that's how I came to be like I am. I'm psychic. I have amazing health. I can manipulate thoughts and the air around us."

"Then why don't you?" Dylan challenged.

She did not care for his tone. With the balance tipping ever so slightly to her angelic side, South stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck so that her cheek was against his. Immediately, everything around them shifted.

_They were back at Thatcher's, in the corner booth where they'd had their first date. It was raining outside, and cold inside. As they sipped at their beers, Dylan pulled her closer and closer. South leaned her head on his shoulder, and he held out his hand. She took the object sitting in his palm; a ring. Shiny and platinum, with a solitary diamond set on the band. Dylan smiled as he looked down at her expectantly. _

South could have taken it further, had Dylan's hand not landed in a hard smack across her face. She pulled away, across the room. It was on the same side where she had been hit the night before, and her lip was now bleeding again.

Dylan looked at her in shock. "South, I'm sorry I just – you scared me."

There was the reaction she had been waiting for. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know how else to make you believe me. I _am _telling you the truth, Dylan."

He stood up; she cowered back. Oh, she could maim him ten ways from Sunday if she really wanted to, but she didn't know if her energy was up to that, if she could keep the balance if she let it get that far.

"I believe you," he said quietly, reaching out his hand to her. "And I need you to believe me when I say that I would never intentionally hurt you."

She just nodded, not entirely sure she did believe him. "Okay."

"So … what are you?" He dropped his hand.

"Nephilim," she replied quickly. "When a fallen angel man and a mortal woman make a child, that child is a Nephilim. The spectrum ranges anywhere from being near-mortal – the same as any other human with just a few exceptionalities – to a transcendental state, where they might as well be angels. I'm somewhere in between, and I've learned to balance the two sides. For the most part. I gave up my exceptionalities for a while after my parents died, so it takes a lot out of me sometimes."

Dylan reached for her, and South carefully stepped towards him. He enveloped her in an embrace stronger and sweeter than he had ever given her before.

"I'm sorry that I hit you. I'm sorry that I didn't believe you." He kissed her forehead. "Now that I'm past the initial shock, though, it really doesn't change anything, South. I love you and I want to be with you. Come to Lawrence with me."

She nodded, a silent agreement. She had shocked the hell out of him, the least she could do was try to start a future with him.

.&.

Once Dylan was asleep, she snuck back out to the balcony to call Dean. It was late, but she knew he would take her call.

"Hey there, beautiful." His voice was rough and low; she had woken him up.

"Hey," she greeted. "Sorry to wake you."

"Don't even worry about it. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think."

A pause. "You want me to keep asking questions, or do you want to just tell me what's going on?"

"Dylan asked me to move with him, to his next posting."

"Which is?"

Her voice cracked as she told him. "A recruiter job in Lawrence."

"Hold on." She heard a mattress creak and a few shufflings before a lock clicked, shortly followed by a door shutting. "Lawrence. And you're freaked out because you haven't been there in years."

"And because I'm afraid that in an effort to get me to be excited about a future that I'm not really excited about, he'll want us to move into my parents' house. It's ready – I never sold it, and I pay monthly to have it cleaned and kept up. But I can't live there. Not with him."

"Is this really what you want, South? Do you want a future with him?"

She shrugged, although he couldn't see her. "I'm not excited, but … but what? I don't even know, Dean."

He frowned from his end of the line. "Something else happen?"

She let out a breath and ran a hand over her face. One moment she wasn't going to tell him, and then the next moment, the words were pouring out of her. "I told him. I told him everything, and he didn't believe me. So I – I did my little Vulcan mind-meld trick, and he freaked out. He slapped me. I expected him to freak out, to be scared, or tell me I was full of shit, but I didn't expect that. Sure as hell didn't see it coming. I can't blame him though, I mean if someone took over my thoughts for the first time without warning me –"

"South! Slow down!" Dean interrupted. "He hit you? Dylan hit you?"

"He didn't do it to hurt me, he just – he was freaked out," she repeated, although the words sounded weak even to her.

"Where are you at? I'm coming there," Dean growled.

"No, you're not," South told him definitively. "Dean, I didn't call you for a rescue, okay? I called because I need you to tell me that this is all going to be okay. I tried to sit and see it and all – I just see darkness."

Dean could hear the tears in her voice. "Lulabelle, there's more than darkness next for you. That darkness you see, that's just your own uncertainty. Everything is going to be just fine."

She sniffled back the tears and rubbed the silver band on her finger. "Okay. I believe you."

"Good. Go to bed, all right? You've had a long few days and you're overwhelmed."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, Dean."

"Anytime."

She ended the call and looked out at the sky. The moon and the stars were shining brighter than she remembered seeing them for a long time. It was a small reassurance as she went back into the room.


	8. Out of the Frying Pan

"I can't believe you're leaving," Marie pouted as she popped open a couple of beers and sat down next to South on her couch.

The girls were having a night in, with drinks, chick flicks, and junk food. South accepted the beer but simply set it on the table. She looked around the apartment, not entirely sad to be leaving the place. The people, yes, but not the place.

"I've got another month before I leave," South reminded her. "And all the time in the world for you before I go."

Marie smiled. "You know I'll have to come visit you all the time, right?"

"Let me know when you want to come out. I'll fly you there."

"Yeah, right. If you can get Dylan to agree to it."

"You think he wouldn't?"

"I think he's going to want you to not work, and it's not going to leave you with a lot of money of your own."

South munched on a couple pieces of popcorn. "I have money, Marie. When my parents died, they left me everything. They'd invested smartly, saved quite a bit. I'm all right on my own."

"South, I didn't mean …"

"No, it's fine," South shrugged. "There's a lot that you don't know about me. I know I'm not exactly forthcoming with that information a lot of the time, but you've stuck by me without question. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," Marie told her warmly. "All right, what'll it be – _Pride and Prejudice _or _13 Going On 30_?"

"Definitely _Pride and Prejudice_. Can't get enough Matthew McFadden."

"I know that's right!" Marie agreed.

The girls giggled as the movie started. Part of South wished she could stay here forever, but it wasn't in the cards. Goodbyes were always sad, that was just the way of it.

.&.

South was carefully stowing away some things in her suitcase when Dean called the week before she was set to move to Lawrence. She didn't own a lot, but she would be carting a small U-Haul back to Kansas with her things in it. Some of it she wanted close by her, hence the suitcase.

"Hey you," she answered cheerfully. "Shouldn't you be out smiting demons or something?"

"Eh, we're on our way to the next case. Thought I'd check in."

South chuckled; she could tell how proud he was of himself. She was proud of him too, she had to admit. He had called her at least once a week in the last six weeks, and texted her in between.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you did. I needed the break from packing."

"When do you leave for Lawrence?"

"Next week. Chugging up that way in the U-Haul."

"You want some help?"

"I'll be all right."

"Come on, let me and Sammy come help you out. We'll even bring Bobby. It'll be a fun, family trip."

She played with the diamond ring on her left ring finger. It had played out exactly like she had showed Dylan. The booth at Thatcher's on a rainy day, the solitaire, the question. South had simply nodded her agreement; words escaped her at that moment. She had texted Dean when she got home that night, not wanting to put off letting him know. His communication hadn't let up, and he assured her he was happy for her.

"Family," she sighed, falling back on her bed and placing a hand over her abdomen. "Right. You know what, that's a good idea. I don't really want to drive all that way by myself."

"Good deal. We'll be there."

South told him a day and time, and he promised to let her know if they weren't done with the job by then. He would call Bobby, too. She thanked him for the help and went back to packing.

.&.

Sam looked over at his brother and shook his head. "She really bought that you just want to go to help?"

"I do want to help. So do you, and I'm sure ole Bobby will be happy to come down, too." Dean grinned and took a huge bite from the burger in his hand.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We're _not _going to beat up on this Dylan guy, Dean. You realize if we do that, South will then kick all of our asses?"

Dean snorted. "She'll try. Whatever. And I don't want to kick his ass, just want to talk to him."

"And if he doesn't go along with what you have to say, you'll start throwing punches," Sam surmised. "Dean, when are you going to let this go?"

"I'm not," Dean told him matter-of-factly. "And don't act like you're not pissed as hell, too."

Sam sighed. "Of course I am, but I don't think ganging up on him is the answer. Can you really blame him?"

"She did it to me, I didn't react like that. I've got every reason to spook and I didn't."

"Whatever. Look, let's get through this next week so we can get there and help her move, then go on from there."

Dean then turned up the music, singing out loud and off key to the classic rock station they had picked up a few miles back. Sam joined in a few seconds later. The little on-the-road concert lifted the spirits of everyone in the Impala.

.&.

Once Sam had told her that her vision had been seemingly rooted in a Satanic ritual, South had taken several precautions. She had holy water and salt hidden in several convenient places throughout her apartment, on her person, and at Thatcher's. She carried an iron knife at her ankle, and an anti-possession charm around her wrist. She brushed up on her exorcism skills, and painted several devil's traps around the normal places she visited.

Since Dean and Sam had left, nothing had happened, except for her visions. It was as though their departure and Dylan's arrival was either key or coincidence to the paranormal happenings around her. Even when Dylan left for recruiter school – she would go to Lawrence and set up house just a few days before he arrived there – things seemed to be normal.

When everything else was packed and she was down to her last shift at Thatcher's, she still left all of those things were they were. She could still see only darkness in her future, but she could feel in her bones that something was coming.

She was filling salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen before that last shift when she heard footsteps behind her; she looked up from her work and then went right back to it. Whoever was here was not right, and she didn't need to let on to her knowledge of that right away.

"You made everything too easy, you know that?"

_Oh God, not Marie_. "Hey, you're here early."

The red-headed girl walked into the kitchen while South placed the tray carefully on the ledge so that the shakers could be distributed later. Marie's head tipped to the side and her eyes narrowed.

"I really wish you would have told me everything, South. Then maybe we wouldn't be in this situation." Marie's voice was hers but the tone was all wrong. Even a human could have noticed it.

"What situation is that?" South frowned, feigning innocence.

Marie sighed deeply. "This situation where you've put everything we need into one simple package, and now I have to be the one to take you."

"Take me? Who is _we_?" she asked.

Marie's eyes glazed over before going completely black. South's suspicions were confirmed; the girl was possessed.

"Come out of her," South demanded. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Well, I _was_ just going to take you again – kind of like I did that morning that Rob told you that you were at the meeting but you thought you overslept – but you're not very comfortable. Too much going on in there," Marie pouted. "Marie though, she was perfect. Pretty, kind, someone everyone around here trusts."

"How long have you been in there?"

"Just a few hours, actually, but I like it. It's cozy."

That did it. South was not going to allow this demon to infest her friend's body just because it had come for her for whatever reason. She pulled the iron knife from her ankle and charged at the girl with it. She could do enough damage to the demon without killing Marie, she was sure of it.

Until Marie held up one hand and slammed South back against the counter. It knocked the wind out of South, but she didn't think there were any other injuries. In seconds, Marie had her up against a wall, her feet dangling just above the ground.

"You don't know who you're fucking with, nephilim," Marie growled – in her voice and one from deep inside her. "I will _end _you."

The words further infuriated South. She didn't just have herself to protect anymore. Time to tip the balance.

She closed her eyes to concentrate her energies. When she opened them again, the grey tint of her irises was draining away into the rest of her eye, leaving the purple rings to glow against the gray of her eyes, indicating her angelic heritage.

"Clearly you're not aware of who _you're _fucking with," she replied in a chilling tone.

She pushed back off the wall and pushed Marie to the ground. She held the body at the neck with one hand, and with her free hand, pulled the demon from her friend's body.

"_In__ nomine Jesu __Christi Domini nostri__, et Salvatoris nostri __intercessione __roborati __Immaculatae __Virginis Mariae, Genitricis __Dei et __beati Michaelis __Archangeli,__beatis Apostolis tuis Petro__et Paulo, et __omnibus Sanctis, __fideliter __suscipiunt __profligare __impetus et __insidias diaboli__."_

Marie screamed as the black smoke was pulled out of her body into the fiery ring that had formed on the ceiling. South knew that it had to hurt, but she couldn't let that thing sit there any longer. Even a few hours could ruin Marie for life, or kill her.

It happened in seconds, but to South it felt like hours. Finally, she was able to lower her hand and restore the balance.

Marie sputtered from the floor; South helped her to sit up. She wasn't sure what Marie would remember. Sometimes people were awake while the demons were inside them, sometimes they weren't.

.&.

Dean and Sam knocked on her door the next morning, coffee in hand. Sam elbowed Dean, pointing to the salt in the doorframe. Dean frowned, wondering why South would still have salt in the doorway if she wasn't worried about anything.

She answered the door with a grin, welcoming them in and receiving a kiss on the cheek from each brother.

"Try and be quiet. Marie's still sleeping. She had a rough day yesterday – rougher than she knows," South sighed. She motioned for them to join her where she was stacking a few boxes in the bedroom, and told Dean to shut the door behind them. "I pulled a demon out of her yesterday."

Dean about choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry, you did what?"

"No, she's able to do that," Sam assured him. "If she tips the balance enough, she can pull a demon from the person they're possessing."

"And it wasn't that hard with her," South added. "You guys, she was surrounded by grace. Someone has been watching over her, and it isn't me."

"That's the least of our worries," Sam replied. "What did the demon say?"

South recounted everything from the moment Marie walked into the kitchen at Thatcher's. "Once it was out and she came to, she didn't seem to remember anything. I told her she slipped and fell when she walked in, and she believed it. Then, somehow, I convinced her last night to come help me set up in Lawrence. So she's travelling with us."

"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to process that you _pulled a demon_ out of that girl?" Dean exclaimed.

South shushed him. "If she hears you, I'll have to explain everything and for right now I think she's better off not knowing. That grace is still with her, so she's safe for now, I think."

"You are not answering me," Dean said, grabbing hold of her shoulders and looking her directly in the eye. "I want to know how dangerous this was."

South looked him right back in the eye. "Dean. I'm fine. I will explain everything to you on the road, all right? I promise."

He didn't seem to like it, but the promise placated him for now. He excused himself to start loading boxes into the U-Haul.

"He'll get over it," Sam told her, waving his brother off. "Question though – when you say that you're going to tell him everything, do you mean, you know, like, _everything_?"

South nodded. "Yeah, everything. He's going to hate me."

"He will not hate you." Sam reached out to hug her. "He'll probably yell and growl and do all those Dean things that we love to hate, but in the end, he'll be glad you told him."

South shrugged against Sam's side. "I sure hope so."

"Maybe you ought to talk to him about that diamond on your finger, too."

"He knows about that."

Sam shrugged. "Just the same. Talk to him about it. I think he doesn't really know if he should bring it up or leave it alone or what."

"Fair enough. Thanks, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he grumbled as he ruffled her hair, causing both of them to laugh.

.&.

South threw her suitcase into the backseat of the Impala. She looked up to where Sam was trailing Marie out of the apartment complex doors.

"Marie, you okay riding with Sam in the U-Haul?" South called.

"Sure, fine," Marie agreed cheerfully. "You can tell me all sorts of stories about South."

South rolled her eyes. "Lord, help us all."

Dean fired up the Impala; South took a seat in the front. They waited patiently for Sam to lead the way in the U-Haul and pulled away from the curb.

"Bobby will meet us in Lexington," Dean informed her. "He's finishing up a job."

"Good deal."

"Guess that means you better start talking now about what all you've got to tell me."

South bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

.&.

From the window of South's now-former apartment, the strange man looked down and watched them drive away. An evil grin formed on his face. The Winchesters had come to her rescue, just like he knew they would.

This was oh-so-perfect.


	9. The Yellow Brick Road

Dean pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road so quickly, he left skid marks in their wake.

"The hell are you doing?" South exclaimed. "You are so damn lucky that we are the only two vehicles on this road, you could have killed us!"

He merely grunted as he threw open the door, slamming it behind him. He walked to the trees lining the road and kicked at the dirt. He heard the passenger door slam behind him so he turned his face and his wrath towards her.

"You should have told me from the beginning! Had me going on wild goose chases with that Civil War ghost shit – what was that anyway?"

South licked her lips. "I don't know how many times I've told you, I see darkness in my future. Darkness and the sacrifice thing – so, in case that comes to be, I wanted a few more good memories with you and Sam. I didn't plan on it until you guys showed up. When Bobby told me about your dad and Sam and all that, I didn't want to load any more on you. Then you showed up. I'm sorry, Dean, I am."

He let out a deep breath and stepped close to her. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll die before that happens. I'm not going to watch over you like some kind of guard because I know that's not what you want, but you better keep me in the loop from now on. Maybe I can't – no, not going there. You just have to let me try to save you. Okay?"

South's heart broke for him. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay. I'll tell you everything. But, Dean, I could be wrong. Things can change, you know."

"I know," he whispered back. He knew they could, but it was never his luck that it happened that way.

This time though, he would change his luck. South was not going to be his either way, but he would be damned before he would let her die.

.&.

The rest of the trip between Carolina and Lexington was silent. In the Impala, anyway. Nearly nine hours of nothing but classic rock and highway scenery. When Marie and Sam came down from the U-Haul at the diner where they were going to meet Bobby, they were laughing. South and Dean, in contrast, were both scowling.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked her.

"Your brother is a stubborn ass," South snapped back as she headed inside for the bathroom.

Marie exchanged a weary glance with Sam; they parted ways to tend to the arguing parties. She thought she was on South's heels into the bathroom, but by the time she got there, the other woman was already retching over a toilet. Marie did what she needed to do, washed her hands, and waited for South to come out from the stall.

South leaned over the sink and rinsed her mouth out with water from the faucet. "You didn't have to wait. Thanks though."

Marie nodded. "When did you find out?"

South looked at her friend through the mirror. She thought to play dumb, but clearly Marie was already wise to her. "Last week, for sure. Had my suspicions for a few weeks."

"Is that what's got you two so mad at each other?"

South wiped her mouth and leaned against the sink, facing Marie. "Dean and I aren't mad at each other, Marie. It seems like it, I know. He's just processing some new information. And it isn't this information. He thinks I'll break if he isn't watching over me every second of the day."

"When are you going to tell him?" Marie inquired.

"After I do some thinking."

"Sam told me about how you two got together, about what happened in Kure Beach. I think he deserves to know."

"I don't disagree," South said quietly. "But it's complicated."

"Yeah, I've heard that from you before where Dean's concerned." Marie moved forward to hug the other girl. "I'm here for you, South. I'll stick around as long as you need me to in Kansas. I promise."

South held on to Marie for dear life. "Thank you."

"Come on," Marie finally breathed, pulling out of the hug. "I'll bet you Dean'll be less upset with whatever's going on after we get some pie in his belly."

South laughed as the girl's walked out of the bathroom. "You're definitely getting to know him."

.&.

Once they were checked into the hotel, South met with Bobby outside the rooms to fill him in on what was going on. She told him about her visions and pulling the demon out of Marie.

"How long you going to go before you tell her what's going on? She was possessed, I say she has a right to know," Bobby said.

South rolled her eyes. "Yeah, all of you hunters are mighty opinionated, you know that?"

"Listen to me, girly. I'm the closest thing you've got left to a father. Sam is your brother and Dean loves you. None of the three of us are going to let you make decisions on your own when it could put you in danger. You've been on your own for a long time, but you're not anymore. So deal with it."

South smiled. "You're pretty good at making sense of things. All right, I'll try to be more cooperative. As for Marie, don't worry about her. She's got grace on her side. But that's a matter for another time."

Bobby shook his head. "You're somethin' else, girl. Let's get some sleep so we can get up and on the road before any other secrets come tumbling out."

South laughed as she opened the door and snuck into her hotel room. Her meal had settled warm in her belly and she was ready to sleep. Marie was already dozing on the bed across from her, so she changed into a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt before climbing into bed. She had just turned off the light when there was a knock on the door.

Sam grinned like only a younger brother can grin. "I've been put on girl duty."

South frowned but moved to let him in. "Girl duty?"

"Bobby and Dean both think that you girls need someone watching out for you since you insisted on separate rooms."

"Sorry I didn't want to sleep on the floor or a cot," South replied sarcastically. "You boys do know that I can take care of myself and Marie, right?"

"Bobby said that you would say that. He also said something is off about you, and then Dean said to tell you not to be a stubborn child."

"Of course they said those things," South sighed, scooting back on the bed. She patted the space next to her. "Well, then you're not going to sit in that chair all night. Come catch me up on what's gone on with you, Sammy."

"What is there to tell besides the usual?" he shrugged. Then, he lit up, just the littlest bit. "There was a girl. Jess. Dean knows about her, but I've never really been able to talk about her."

South smiled. "Come on. Tell your big sister South all about her."

Sam laughed and leaned his head against the wall. "She was beautiful. Perfect. So smart, and funny, and just – she was never clingy but I never felt like she didn't need me. And she was normal – never knew about any of this. Until it was too late."

"You really loved her, huh?"

Sam nodded, closing his eyes. "It's been forever, it seems like, but every time I close my eyes, I see her. Just for a second. Beautiful, happy. Then it changes. She's dead, on the ceiling, and the flames close in on her. I'd give anything not to remember her like that."

"I wish I could take that away for you, Sam."

"Yeah, what kind of a friend are you? All that mind manipulation crap and you can't take that away?" Sam laughed but it was empty. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. And I think I was always meant for this, anyway. Hunting. I will say though, that's what scares me about you and Dean."

"Hunting?" South frowned.

"No, the death part of it. If he had to put you down, South, do you know what that would do to him? He'd disappear. Even if he stayed around, he would never be the same. I don't think I would, either. From the night we met you, we both expected you to be in our lives forever. I don't know where we'll be in ten years, or twenty, or thirty. We may not even live that long. But, damn it, South. You're supposed to be there until we aren't."

A couple of tears fell; Sam tried to brush them away before more fell. South reached over to hug him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I promise not to ever go nuts, okay? I'll behave myself and then you two won't have to go through that."

Sam shook his head. "You won't know you're at that point until you're there."

She pursed her lips. "I'd give up everything non-mortal about me if I could save you two from that pain. You boys are the constants in my life."

He laughed, and this time it was genuine. "That's really sad, considering we went eleven years without seeing you."

South laughed, too. After that, they were both ready for sleep. Sam rolled one way; South rolled the other. Neither was worried about anything questionable; they had shared a bed plenty of times before and had never seen each other as anything more than a sibling. For the first time since Dylan had returned home and the brothers had left Carolina, South got a good night's sleep.

.&.

They were all up before the sun the next morning to get back on the road. After a brief but serious conversation with Bobby, South climbed into the Impala and tried to get comfortable with a pillow she had swiped from the hotel.

"Can't believe I packed all mine," she grumbled. As much as she tried to fluff the pillow, she couldn't find a comfortable space against the door.

"Lean over this way," Dean suggested. When she looked at him skeptically, he added, "I'll play with your hair until you fall asleep."

Although playing with her hair really only entailed running his fingers through it until she was relaxed enough to sleep, it was enough to entice her to lay down with her head on his leg. Yes, this was much better.

Before she drifted off to sleep, she looked up at him. His countenance was pensive – and hesitant? Curious, she reached a hand up to his face, just for a few seconds, and smiled to herself.

"If you want to see our would-be future again, you just have to ask."

Dean looked down at her, then back at the road. His cheeks flushed. "Come on, South. I told you I wouldn't come between you and Dylan. Since that's the case, I probably shouldn't be asking for things like that."

South sat up, playing with the stitching on the leather seat. "I know that we put the past behind us. That we had our weekend of closure. But I guess I've accepted the fact that Dylan's only going to be second best. My heart will never completely belong to anyone else but you."

He had to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she wasn't mocking him. He wanted to believe it was true, and those eyes he was so fascinated by told him she was genuine.

"Wait till we're in Lawrence. Can't risk wrecking my baby because you're a freak of nature."

South laughed and made to pinch him, but Dean dodged out of her reach. After their laughter died down, she made herself comfortable again, and he resumed playing with her hair.

As sleep began to win out over awareness, South weighed an important decision in her mind.

.&.

Marie put down the book she had brought with her and stretched her neck from side to side. She undid her seatbelt and leaned back against the door.

"What's your brother really like?" she asked Sam.

Sam snorted. "What you see is what you get with Dean."

"I don't believe that. Not the way he is with South. Not the way she is with him. Well, since after she punched him anyway."

"I guess you're right there." Sam paused to check his mirrors and ensure Dean and Bobby were still caravanning behind him. "South is Dean's kryptonite, I guess you could say. She always has been. My brother is incredibly loyal and actually has a really big heart. He hides it so that no one sees him as weak. South always saw through that, in a few different ways, and I think that's what gives her the upper hand when it comes to Dean."

Marie thought on that for a few minutes. "So, why do you think she's staying with Dylan?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Sam answered without hesitation. "Dylan hasn't done anything wrong to her. And, as douche as my brother can be, he and South hold true to what they believe is the right thing."

"You sound like you don't think it is the right thing."

Sam nodded as he switched lanes. "My brother sacrificed a lot for my happiness when we were growing up. He still does, I think. I guess because I have seen him when they were together, and how he had been since they were apart – I just want my brother to have something makes him happy. You know, besides pie and the Impala."

Marie laughed with him. That gave her enough information to think on for now. She picked up her book again, shivering a little. A second later, as though someone was hugging her close, warmth wrapped around her in a tight embrace.


End file.
